Every Rose Has a Thorn
by Megana
Summary: Rose McGeady ran away from home to prove a point to her stubborn mother. Will Rose get sucked into the evil of London's Underworld when she meets the Napoleon of Crime?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

Disclaimer: The Great Mouse Detective and all related characters are the property of Eve Titus and Disney and may not be used without permission. All other characters are the property of Megana and may not be used without permission. Millie, Giovanni, and some of the thugs are modeled off of characters in the film… their names are Megana's.

_We are the Moononites, Ignot and Err. We are advanced beyond your feeble human comprehension. Gerard Butler is hot beyond male comprehension. Pokey! Mwhahahahaha!_

Meg: _(looking at disclaimer)_ WHAT? Gerard Butler? 'Pokey?' The Moononites? Who wrote that?!

JWJ: Wasn't me, you pinko Commie!

Meg: I'm not a Commie, I'm a Republican. Or rather, was. I think I want to be a Democrat now. The Bush administration's really starting to get on my nerves.

JWJ: WHAT? You want to be a jack-"

Meg: That's it, I'm sick of you in these author's notes. I'm kicking you out.

JWJ: You can't kick me out! I'm the only reason people even look at your stories; they really want to read about fabulous me!

Meg: _(raises eyebrow)_ Oh, puh-leez! LUKE!

Luke: _(entering) _What is this?

Meg: My author's notes. You get to make comments on my stories or about how much Ratigan hates my stories.

Luke: Am I going to hate this?

Meg: Probably.

Luke: Then why am I doing this?

Meg: Because I said so. Besides, you do nothing else in your spare time.

Luke: Oh, dang.

* * *

A young, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl huddled underneath a mound of rope, shivering as she pulled her cloak more tightly around her to keep off the chill of the light drizzle falling from the stormy night. She held an old, tattered carpetbag to her chest

She could go back home. Home. Hah. She had left home, and even though her heart ached for her father and her sisters, she knew that she could never go back and look herself in the face again. She would not give her mother the satisfaction of knowing that she had been too weak to completely run off.

_Wasn't it weakness to say you were running away, and then turn back and go home when it got too dark and cold?_

She closed her eyes and fell back into the events that had led her to this point.

Her name was Rose Marie McGeady. The blond-haired, blue-eyed girl was just shy of her seventeenth year. The third daughter of a clerk, she grew up in an average, middle-class family with her three sisters and her mother in their flat in Exeter. Rose had lived in general comfort with her family. She loved her sisters dearly, and her father had always been good to her. The only problem was her mother.

Elaine McGeady was not a bad mother, but that does not mean that she was necessarily a good one either. Her real flaw was how quickly she could lose her temper. Neither patient nor exceptionally bright, she was the type of person who could lose her temper over anything from what she assumed was a 'sarcastic look' from one of her children, to someone forgetting to empty the dirty dishwater out into the alley, to her children not performing exceptionally well in their studies. Elaine was bored with her life so she deliberately tried to pick fights with others. She held silly grudges against the neighbors and former friends of Rose and her sisters. She even held grudges against some of her own family members.

Rose thought her mother's temper problem was ridiculous. Elaine had once beaten her for locking herself out of their flat. Another time she had taken away her favorite books for making some off-hand comment about how her mother's cheesecake looked like it was bleeding. To Rose, these were silly things, things that no one should be taking offense over, right?

Rose had lost her best friend, Sarah Johnson, when her mother got into a fight with Sarah's mother. Elaine had forbidden Rose to ever see Sarah again. Rose had fought her mother, claiming that she and Sarah had nothing to do with the fight, and so why should their friendship suffer?

_Because I am your mother_, Elaine had said. _Because you should honor me, and by seeing Sarah you would be dishonoring me and showing Mrs. Johnson that my own children do not honor their mother!_

_Because I am your mother…_

It was because she was Rose's mother that the family could no longer speak to her father's sister Camille.

When Camille had died a few months ago, Elaine had gone to the funeral with the rest of the family. While others were weeping, Elaine McGeady was laughing at a joke with another one of the Johnson relatives. Rose had found it very distasteful, and had hated her mother for her laugh.

And then yesterday evening, her mother had been telling Jessica, the youngest child in her family, why she did not like Camille, even thought Aunt Camille was already dead. Rose knew what her mother said against her aunt was exaggerated lies. She knew that, as a Christian, her mother, should not speak so disrespectfully of the dead. But there she was, going on about how horrible a person Camille was; Camille, who could not defend herself.

"Aunt Camille was never like that," Rose had said without thinking.

Her mother stopped, stared at her in shock, and then turned red.

Oh, what a fight! How many times her mother told Rose how disrespectful she was to her, how ungrateful of a daughter she was. Rose fought back, telling her mother how many people despised their family because of Elaine's temper, and how horrible she was to tell lies about people not even cold in their graves.

The fight only ended when her mother told her that if she did not like living there then she could leave. Rose had nodded and said, "Fine."

She had packed a few warm clothes, a blanket, all her savings, some jewelry, and a book. She would leave long enough to make her mother sorry. Certainly she would be found, but not until she had made her point.

_And what was her point? _she had wondered as she picked up the carpetbag. It was too heavy.

She opened it up again and threw out the book, the blanket, and some of the clothes. Then, more on impulse, she threw in a small copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_.

She closed the bag again and lifted it. It was considerably lighter. She would not be gone that long anyway.

She walked into the parlor, where her mother was reading a book. "I'm leaving!" she called out in a loud voice.

"No one cares," Elaine said, not even looking up from the book.

Rose walked out the door and slammed it shut behind her, feeling empty inside. But she knew she would rather die than turn back now.

She had almost been halfway down the street when she heard someone call her name. "Rose! Rose!"

She turned around. It was her sister Gwen, only a year older than herself.

"Gwen?" her heart jumped. _Was she going to join her?_

"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" Gwen asked, tears in her eyes.

"I… didn't see you. I just had to get out of that house. I'm sick of how judgmental she is, and her temper."

"I… I always thought that I'd be the one to run away. You know?" Gwen said softly.

"Yes…" Rose thought how much Gwen hated their mother, and had vowed that she would run off. But she never had.

"Never thought it would be you instead of me… Rose? Don't forget me?"

Rose hugged her sister. "I won't. It will be all right. You'll see."

Then, with one last glance, they parted.

* * *

Rose had gone to London. The metropolis was big enough to hide in for a few days. She was certain that someone would find her; she expected that her parents would call the police, or her father would go after her himself. Someone would come along, and beg her to come home. _Please_, they'd say, _please, you're wanted back at home. Your mother wants you there. She's sorry for everything she's ever done to you. Everything._

She had convinced herself that this 'journey' was seen as noble and right in the eyes of God. He would make sure that she would be all right, that her family would come for her. They had to, because was not her cause noble and just?

When she arrived in London the next morning, she was met with gray, overcast skies and a bitter March wind. Unfriendly faces. Nowhere to go.

She had started to inquire about a place to stay for cheap. Unfortunately, the small amount of money she had would not do for any respectable place. She was told to look further and further away from anything decent-looking.

She had looked all day. She had found nothing.

And here she was, at an East End dock, cold and alone, and beginning to doubt the righteousness of her cause. She was hungry, but too afraid to spend any of the money she had left. She was afraid, but too proud to take what money she had left and catch the next train to Exeter. She was proud, but already humbled enough to realize the foolishness of her running off. What had it benefited her? Already she missed the comforts of home. And here she was, lost in London, quite helpless and alone.

Quite alone…

* * *

Luke: I can't do this. I have no qualifications!

Meg: Are you Republican?

Luke: No… I hate politics.

Meg: You're qualified.

RAEB: Meg, can't we just forget having guys in these author's notes for once?

Meg: No.

RAEB: Why not?

Meg: Some readers might think I was a feminist or something.

Emma: But… you are.

Meg: No…

RAEB, Emma & Leigh: YES, YOU ARE!

Luke: Wait, you're a feminist? A guy-hater? That's it, I'm outta here!

Meg: Come back, I didn't mean it!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Meg: _(storming in) _That's it! Which one of you jerks did it?

JWJ: What did we do?

Emma: Yeah, we're just sitting here-

Luke: Pretending to be doing something constructive-

JWJ: And generally trying to ignore you.

Lizz: I thought JWJ was kicked out.

Meg: _(glares at him)_ He is. GET OUT OF HERE!

JWJ: No.

Meg: Why? You hate my stories.

JWJ: I take pity on the readers.

Meg: Fine, stay. See if I care.

JWJ: Reverse psychology doesn't work on me!

Meg: You egged my car, didn't you!

Everyone: WHAT?

Meg: Someone egged my car! There are runny, disgusting egg yolks and egg shells all over my car! Now who did it!

Luke: Oh, you mean the drunk people.

Meg: _(raises eyebrow)_ What drunk people?

Luke: The people who drove past an hour ago screaming something incoherent out the window.

Meg: And you didn't tell anyone until now? LUKE! Why do I even have you around?

* * *

It was around eight o'clock, and already some of the ladies of the evening had started to come out. They stalked the street corners and hung around the pubs, always on the search for the customers that only came at night.

Scarlet Jones, dressed in a gaudy red second-hand evening dress, was conversing with another woman dressed in a similarly styled dress by The Rat Trap that evening. The bar was alive with the noise of a few crews of searats and mice as they drank and gambled and booed at the entertainment inside. They would soon be bored and come looking for other ways to fulfill their need for pleasure.

Another woman by the name of Mary Connors joined the two women. "Scarlet, Nanny, youse two seen the liddle bit o' work 'iding in those ropes o'er there?" she said in a half-cackling way, pointing to some rope, lazily thrown in a pile nearby.

"What are ye talkin' about, Mary Connors?" Scarlet asked.

Mary gave another witch-like laugh. "A liddle girl, by the looks of it. Probably runaway, judging from 'er genteel clothes an' look. Tried to get 'er to come out, but she refused."

"No wonder, ye probably scared 'er," Nanny said, laughing.

Scarlet looked towards the ropes. She did not see anyone. "I'm goin' to take a look-see."

"Don't waste time wid that'un. She'll end up takin' yer business in a couple o' weeks anyways."

"It don't 'urt to look now, don't it?" Scarlet shot back.

She approached the ropes. She could see the girl plainly now, shivering and scared underneath her inadequate shelter. She could not have been more than sixteen; the same age Scarlet had been when she had been kicked out of her father's flat. A wave of compassion for this poor girl swept through her. She was only a child.

"Come out, love. Mary's gone now."

The girl closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No? Why not?"

"I'd… rather not. It's raining."

"Well, it can't be much worse out 'ere than it is in there. Beggin' yer pardon, but ropes ain't exactly the best cover from the rain."

The girl appeared to think that over for a bit. Finally she grabbed her bag, climbed out of the ropes, and slowly approached Scarlet.

"So ye are a runaway," she said, satisfied.

The girl winced. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well… let's just say if ye was anywheres but 'ere, it wouldn't be. But look at ye, yer chilled to the bone! Come on, let's get ye out o' this rain before ye catch somethin'. Doctahs are mightly expensive these days."

The girl allowed this disreputable woman to lead her by the arm to a back door of the pub and take her inside, trying to appear disconcerted.

* * *

The cook, a big, hardened woman by the name of Millie, ladled out some soup for Rose as she explained her story to Scarlet. The woman was kind to the girl and tried to comfort her.

"Well, that wasn't very nice o' yer mum to be talkin' about dead folks like that'un."

"No…"

"But what are ye goin' to do, honey?"

"Miss Scarlet, I don't know what to do. I want to go home-"

"Then ye run along home, where ye belong!"

"But that would only be telling my mother that she is right. And she's not right! She'd only tell me that I am weak, a disgrace of a daughter… oh, it would be so much worse if I did go back!"

"Well, ye can't stay 'ere, that's certain."

Rose was silent. Finally she said, "I just need a place to stay, at least for a week. Then maybe I'll go home."

"A week? 'Ow much money do ye got?"

Rose looked in her purse. "A little less than seven pounds."

Millie scoffed. "T'won't last ye more than two days anywhere."

Rose cast down her eyes. "Well, maybe if I did some jobs, like cleaning or something, maybe they'd be easier on my rent."

Scarlet slapped the table with her hand. "That's it!"

"What? You know of a place who would-"

"Millie," she interrupted Rose, "don't Gio need a washer woman? Since Aggie passed on?"

Millie shrugged. "Yes, but he ain't too keen on taking another girl on his payroll. She would need some skills."

"Like what?" Rose asked eagerly.

"Well… do you sing, love? Like Miss Kitty?"

Rose did not know who Miss Kitty was, but the way her name had been mentioned, she sounded like someone very important. "I can't sing very well."

"Dance? Perform, then?"

"Well… I could probably dance if asked too… but I'm not very good at it. But I can play the piano tolerably well."

"We've already got a piano player, and he plays what the customers want to here."

"Oh." Rose was disappointed.

"Well, come on 'ere! Can't there be two piano playahs?"

"No."

"Millie-"

"I said no!"

"Ain't there anything the girl could do?"

"Not much that we can't handle already." Millie stirred a pot of soup in a thoughtful manner. "I do know of a man looking for someone though… Aggie used to make his dinners for him and do his laundry and cleaning…"

"_NO!_" Scarlet snapped. "Don't even think about it, Millie!"

"Why not? He needs someone dependable, and if she's desperate-"

"And I am!" Rose cut in.

"-then why not give her the chance?"

"Because she's only stayin' a week, and ye know 'e'd never let 'er get away, where she could go to those damn Yardies and give the whole ops away! It's foolish to think o' such a thing in the first place!"

Rose was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, t'was only a thought, Scarlet Jones!" Millie said huffily.

"So t'was," Scarlet said quietly. "Don't go gettin' those 'oo don't need to be gettin' involved, involved!"

It was at that moment that the owner of The Rat Trap, a sly-looking fellow with black hair and dark fur ran into the kitchen.

"Millie, where the hell is that broom?"

"In the closet, where it always is," she said without even looking at him. "Someone break something?"

"Two rogues broke only about two tables and half a dozen bottles and chairs! And it's only half past eight! I'm getting too old for this."

"You always say that."

"It's going to be a long night." He pulled out the dustpan and broom. "Lizzie's told me that Ester's got whooping cough and won't be able to make it, Jess disappeared with one of those searats about five minutes ago. Terribly understaffed, crews of sailors in there, and you-know-who's decided to bring some rich saps down here tonight, of all nights! You're going to have to come out some time and help us!" he barked, leaving the room.

"My job's back here, not out there with those sluts and pigs!" Millie yelled after him.

"Do it or you're fired!"

"One of these days, Giovanni… one of these days…" Millie said darkly.

Scarlet was beaming. She nudged Rose. "'Ere's yer chance, love. Go ask 'im if ye can 'elp for a place to stay."

Rose gave the woman a bewildered look. "What? Me? Serve people in a _pub_?"

'Well, yeah."

Rose gulped. She was afraid to talk to that man, but what choice did she have?

She walked out into the pub, and found it humming with activity. It was packed with all types of low-life bums; sailors and dockworkers, and the scum of the streets. She took a deep breath, and then approached Giovanni, who was busy sweeping up glass and broken bits of wood off the floor.

"Excuse me, sir?" Rose said timidly.

He did not hear me.

"Sir?" she said, tapping him on the back.

"What do you want?" he snarled, not even looking at her.

"Sir, I heard you were understaffed, and I was wondering if you could give me a job."

Giovanni turned around, studying her for a few seconds. "No."

"But I am an extremely good worker! I will do whatever you ask me to do. I don't have much experience, but I can help sweep up things and serve customers. It wouldn't be hard."

He snorted. "Runaway, right?"

She blushed. It really was apparent around here. "Well… yes."

"No money, no place to go, so someone sends you down here, telling you that you can get lodgings cheap… at least until you get back home."

"Yes… but I'm not going back home."

"And I'm the Queen." Giovanni finished sweeping up the mess. "Listen, I need someone with experience, someone who's very livelihood depends on this job. See, if it didn't, then they'd get careless… start dropping things, costing me money. You want a job, you prove to me that you're here to stay."

"How?"

"You've got some possessions?"

"A small bag," she said slowly.

"Give it to me. I'll keep it safe. If you're here for one month, I'll give it back to you."

Rose paused. It sounded like a shaky deal.

"My wages?"

"You've got a place to stay?"

"Well… no."

"You'll get a place here. That'll be your wages."

"Room and board?"

"Oh, no. Just the room."

"Then how do I eat?"

"I don't care. You figure that out."

"But… that's not fair!"

"Take it or leave it. The bag in exchange for a job, the room in exchange for pay. Or the streets. Your pick."

Rose knew in her heart that it was a bad deal, but she held out her hand anyway. "Done."

* * *

Meg: I can't stand drunk people. Especially when they egg people's cars. I mean, who eggs a car anyway? You've just wasted a dozen eggs trying to do the trick, and then the owner comes out an hour later and scrubs the car clean. So hah! No paint peeled off this time, LOSERS!

RAEB: _(entering) _Now before you spaz, just listen. JWJ swears he didn't do it. Leigh swears that she didn't do it. Luke swore he didn't do it before he even found out what 'it' was.

Meg: _(raises eyebrow)_ RAEB? What the heck are you talking about?

RAEB: Well… someone scratched in "Fear Me, You Sorry Excuse for a Writer" on your car. We think they must have done it with keys.

Meg: WHAT?

RAEB: Oh yeah, they left this- _(holds up a white glove)_

Meg: That looks familiar…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

Meg: _(venting her anger on a pillow) _Stupid, jerk-faced drunk people! I hate them all!

JWJ: How do you know those people were drunk? They could have just as easily been Democrats.

Meg: _(glares at him)_ Shut up, ok? SHUT UP!

Lizz: Meg, it's only a little scratch…

Meg: It's on the whole back of my car! It's like Tsu Hzi came back to life and decided to file her nails on my car!

Lizz: Tsu Hzi?

JWJ: The Dowager Empress of China in the late 1800s. You should see her photo—those nails could impale someone!

Lizz: Ewww…

Meg: I'm going to kill the drunken sped who decided to ruin my car!

* * *

The first night will forever live in Rose's memory as the worst night of her life. Already weary from lack of sleep, and aching with the knowledge that all she had left in the world was now in the hands of Giovanni, her mind was not completely on this new and tiring work. Trying to balance heavy trays laden with heavier mugs full of drink, she had to deal with drunken rodents grabbing her skirts or the occasional fistfight that could break out in front of her at any moment. She ended up dropping three trays that night, which Giovanni forced her to pay for with the last of her money.

The last patron did not leave until three o'clock that morning. Rose took the empty mugs into the kitchen, where Millie washed them.

Rose was dog-tired, but she was informed by the other two barmaids that their work was not done. The tables had to be wiped off, the chairs put upside-down on the tables, and the floor swept and sprinkled with sawdust to soak up spilled liquor. And when that was all done, the stage needed to be cleared of weapons and rotted vegetables, and one of the private rooms needed to be cleaned up, because "the Boss 'ad been usin' it for 'is guests."

Rose assumed that they were talking about Giovanni. She had seen him making a big deal about some mice that had come in at the door, but had ushered them to one of the private rooms before anyone could take a good look at them.

It was nearly five o'clock by the time they were finished. Rose approached Giovanni, who was reading yesterday's newspaper at one of the tables.

"Sir? You promised me a room for my work."

He took his time finishing what he was reading before he even acknowledged her. "Oh? I did, didn't I? Still here, huh."

"Of course," Rose said, slightly offended.

Giovanni slowly got up. He looked around a bit, and then led her to the staircase. Rose could not wait to get some sleep. She was exhausted.

But instead of going up the staircase, Giovanni showed her a small door underneath the stairs. He opened it, showing her a cramped, dusty, dirty space.

"You sleep here."

"What? But… but you promised me a room!"

"I promised you a room in exchange for those wages. You're not worth the price of an experienced barmaid. You're slow, clumsy, and too timid. No one wants that. So you get the room you deserve. Or you could leave…"

Rose knew that she had dug herself into a trap. She shook her head. "No. It's fine."

"Work starts again at five. Be here." He left her, satisfied with himself. He could always scam fresh meat; they were too inexperienced to put up much of a fight about it.

Rose knew she would have to stay. She could not go back home now; not when without clothes and her possessions. Her mother would mock her, saying "What good did running away do you, huh? What did you achieve? _Nothing_." She would be seen as a failure. So she would stay; at least for a month. By then her mother would be sorry for everything she ever did to her, and she would have her things back. It was long enough.

* * *

When Rose told Scarlet her plans to stay for one month, the woman slapped the girl. Rose held a hand to her cheek and stared at the woman in bewilderment.

"Why… why did you…" she could not finish.

"Because ye're a dang fool! Ye can't last a month!"

"Of course I can! I lasted last night!"

"Millie tells me that Gio is scamming ye. Can't ye see 'e'll only find ways to scam ye more? And then ye'll get desperate agin, and end up like me."

Rose blushed. "I won't. My morals are too important to me."

"That's what many 'ores I know once thought. Don't overestimate yerself, love."

"But you don't understand what type of a person I am."

"I 'ope yer right. But promise me ye'll go 'ome before ye end up like me."

"I promise, Miss Scarlet. I promise."

* * *

It was a tough month. Rose, who could never fall asleep when the sun was out, became a creature of the night. She had no blankets or pillow; she slept on the cold, sometimes wet dirt floor of the closet underneath the stairs, sometimes padded with old newspapers Giovanni had already read. The only clothes she had were the ones on her back.

She had no money to buy food, so she tried to earn extra money by doing the washing for the tenants of the rented rooms above the pub. It was not enough; she could hardly scrape enough together to get one decent meal a day.

Some of the more well-to-do employees, such as Miss Kitty, took pity on her and gave her odd jobs to do for money, such as washing and mending costumes or delivering letters. Scarlet and many of the other ladies of the evening watched out for her, to make sure that she did not get harassed by anyone outside the pub. They felt the need to protect her.

Rose had been protected most of her life, sheltered from the ways of the world. And now that she was in it, she wanted to be sheltered again. She wanted everyone to appear good at heart. But her experience taught her many things: people can and will be evil.

Towards the end of that first month, a man was shot and killed right in front of her. All Giovanni did was clear away the body and then ransack it for money or anything that could be sold to a pawnbroker. She threw up that night, in the back alley, where she held a lantern over him as he searched the body.

She hated Giovanni with a passion. She had never wished ill will on anyone except maybe her mother, but she really wished that Giovanni were dead. He hit her when she did anything wrong, knowing that she would take it.

When the month was up, Rose reminded him of his promise to return her the bag. He did not give it to her for another two weeks. When she finally got it back, it was nearly empty. The man had sold most of her clothes and jewelry, leaving only the novel, one old dress, and some undergarments.

Rose was too weary to weep. She had known somehow that it would turn out this way, but she had fooled herself into thinking that her possessions would be returned to her.

That night, after the pub had closed for the night, it was broken into and robbed. Giovanni put the blame on Rose for not stopping them, since she slept the closest to the safe. The truth was, she had been sleeping in Kitty's dressing room, because Kitty often invited her to use the dressing room when she was not using it herself, and did not hear them break in.

He told her that she had to work for him another month to pay it off, and had to stand guard by the back door, to unlock the door for 'tenants' who might be out late. What he really meant was that it was kept unlocked for the mice who dwelt in the sewers underneath the trapdoor behind the bar.

Rose had seen the trapdoor, and had even gone down into it a few times. It only led to the sewers. But the other barmaids whispered of "the Boss", a mystery in the eyes of Rose. She knew they did not speak of Giovanni, for no one called him anything but "Gio". But the Boss was someone to be respected and feared, of whom some of the barmaids and whores told the most grisly tales, of how he had murdered widows, orphans, rich men and poor, lived in a lair filled to the brim with treasures beyond your wildest dreams, deep within the sewers underneath The Rat Trap. According to Lizzie, he often frequented the Rat Trap, but Rose had never seen him. His henchmen, regulars in the Rat Trap, were real enough. There was Fidget, the peg-legged bat, a lizard whose name Rose did not know, a few others: Tom, Jack, Kilburn, Charles, Gerald. But the Boss was never with them.

"Who is the Boss?" she once asked Scarlet in the alley behind the pub one night.

"The Boss? Who told ye about the Boss?" Scarlet asked, eyes narrowing at her.

"Just the other barmaids and some of the customers. Why?"

"'Ow much do ye know?" she said in a soft voice.

"Nothing, really, except that he lives under the pub. I've never seen him. I've seen some of his workers though. Like that bat, the weird one, Fidget."

"Shhhh!" Scarlet hissed. Looking around, she continued, "'E's got eyes and ears everywhere. Now lissen. Don't ask anyone about the Boss. Don't even try to find anything out. Now, I know yer a good girl. Ye wanna stay that way, right?"

"Yes…"

"Then don't start trying to learn about things that don't concern ye. The less ye know of the Boss, the better. If 'e got wind that a genteel girl like ye was askin' around about 'im, then 'e'd make sure that ye'd never get out of 'ere alive."

"Alive?" Rose asked slowly, getting a sick feeling in her stomach.

"Just don't go pokin' yer nose where it don't belong."

After that, Rose tried to avoid even hearing of others speak of the Boss.

She often dreamed at nights, when she would doze off while on 'guard duty', of this faceless phantom of a rodent… one who would not value the life of poor, friendless barmaid like herself.

But was she entirely friendless? Sometimes, when she was dozing on her guard duty, she awoke to find that someone had draped a dark, black cape over her. Each time she carefully folded it up and put it back in her hole of a room, only to go back later and find it gone!

* * *

Luke: Who does the cape belong to?

Emma: Are you familiar with GMD?

Luke: Umm, no.

Emma: Oh boy, this might take awhile. See, there is this big ra-… erm, rodent, named…

_(Ratigan walks into the room, holding his head)_

Emma: Ratigan?

Luke: Yeah, there's a six-foot something rodent over there… I think it's a ra-

_(Emma slaps hand over his mouth. Ratigan ignores them and grabs a bottle of water)_

Emma: Do you have a death wish?

Luke: Hm?

RAEB: _(walking in, noticing Ratigan) _What is _he_ doing here?

Luke: Yeah, I let him in.

RAEB & Emma: WHAT?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

_(Ratigan sits on a couch, holding his head in his hands. The others are whispering to each other)_

Meg: Now explain this to me again, Luke. Very, very slowly…

Luke: Oh, erm… yeah, sometime after your car was egged and scratched and all, I found this rat-

RAEB: Shut UP!

Luke: Why do you all keep doing that? What'd I do?

Meg: Never mind. Refer to the rodent as Ratigan, and go on.

Luke: Okay… so, _Ratigan_ was sort of wandering around in a drunken stupor.

Meg: Drunken?

Luke: Well, he was tottering a bit and sort of talking to himself. And, well, I felt bad for him, so I let him inside so he could sleep it off.

Meg: Why?

Luke: I just told you, I felt bad for him!

Meg: You let a drunk person you didn't know into this house?

Luke: He said he knew you.

Emma: So that makes it right?

Luke: Hey! Give me a break, I didn't know any better!

RAEB: Eh, Meg? Ratigan's missing a glove.

Meg: So?

RAEB: And we found a white glove by your car… and look at his claws. They look like they've been…

Lizz: Scratched.

* * *

One day Millie sent Rose out to buy some fish. She was weary from the previous night's work, but Millie was paying her to run this errand, and she needed all the spare change she could get to purchase her ticket home.

She moved robotically among the throng of working people that filled the streets, too tired to look at their faces,or to even care about them. She was sick of her fellow mice, even these dregs that she belonged to. They were loud and boisterous, shouting greetings or insults over the heads of those who separated them, dressed in their threadbare clothes wafting in the stench of heavy body odors. At first Rose had been appalled by their conditions, but over time she had fallen into them herself. She knew she was no different, no better or worse than the rest. At least she would be out of here as soon as she had enough money.

Her head suddenly snapped up. She thought she heard someone shout her name. But she looked at the other mice on the street; she recognized no one. She continued on her way.

"Rose! Rose McGeady! Rose!"

Rose looked all around her. Suddenly she saw a young man run up to her, wearing a secondhand suit and an old, slightly tattered top hat in his hands.

"Rose! Is it really you?" the man asked.

Rose peered at his face. He looked no more than twenty, and seemed so familiar…

"Greg? Gregory Rogers?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, Greg!" Rose exclaimed, hugging the young man. He had once courted her older sister Francis, until they decided that they really were better off as friends. "What are you doing here? I thought you were at the University of the London!"

"I am. But lodgings are so expensive near the University. I have a small garret by the textile mills; it's much more affordable. But Rose, what are you doing here?"

Rose blushed. "Oh… I ran away from home."

Greg nodded. "I heard. Francis wrote me. But Rose, everyone thinks you're dead!"

Rose's heart stopped, and for a moment, she believed that she really was dead. "What? My family thinks I'm dead?"

Greg sighed. "Yes."

"How?"

"When was the last time you had any contact with any of your family?"

"Not since the night I ran away."

"Oh…" Greg became grave.

"Greg? Tell me why they think I'm dead!"

"I think you ought to sit down first." He took Rose by the arm and led her to an old brush in an alley. They sat on the handle.

"Now tell me."

"First, tell me what you have been doing since you got here."

Rose was only too happy to confide her whole experience to him. She told him everything, from Giovanni's tricks to the black cape to her stolen possessions to the pride that would not let her go back home without proving a point.

When she was finished, Greg said, "Well, I suppose that you were going to find out anyway…

"When you left that night, your father, Francis, and Gwen went out to find you. They found out that you had bought a ticket to London. So your father and Francis took the next train to the city

"They searched for a day before they realized that they needed some official assistant. They had Scotland Yard on the lookout for you. They even hired a private detective, a Basil of Baker Street, to find you.

"The Yard had no idea what they were doing. They only told your family that their constables would look for a young girl of your physical appearance. Francis placed more hope in the detective. He has an amazing record of solving apparently unsolvable cases. She thought he'd pick up your trail and be able to find you."

"And?" Rose asked, practically sitting on the edge of her seat.

"He found a trail, followed it all the way to the waterfront in this section of the city. It was then that he discovered the body of a young girl, about your height, with blonde hair… The body was a bit mangled up; she had been attacked by a cat, crawled into a can that had been beaten around by the cat in an attempt to get to her… and it really was a mess. Your sister called me down to the Yard, where she was with your father, identifying the body… everyone really thought it was _you_, Rose."

Rose did not know what to say. She felt a powerful mixture of shame and sadness. How much grief had she caused them? Had her mother wept?

"What did they do?"

"The body was sent back to Exeter… they buried it in the old King's Hill Cemetery. Your whole family was distraught. Your mother blamed herself at first… then she started to blame your father for it. Francis told me. She was so upset… everyone worried about the unity of your family…then your mother tried to strangle Jessica."

"What?" Rose gasped.

He nodded sadly. "Francis said that your mother accused your little sister of stealing money from her purse… Jessica denied it, your mother didn't believe her, and tried to force her to tell the truth by strangling her."

Rose wanted to cry. "No…"

"Your father realized how unstable she was. He quit his job, took Francis, Gwen, and Jessica, and boarded a ship headed for the States."

"Wait, WHAT?"

Greg swallowed hard, as if he could barely say the words again. "They've left England, Rose. Your father and your sisters."

"What… no! That can't be! They can't have left!"

"Francis said that they wanted to forget about everything here. They went to start anew, to get rid of all the horrible memories."

"No!" Rose said, crying. "I'm still here…"

Greg sat with her a few minutes. After awhile, she asked, "Where's my mother?"

"Still living in Exeter with your grandmother. You could go back to her-"

"No! I will never go back to her!"

"I'm sorry, Rose."

"Greg, didn't Fran tell you where they were going?"

"No, she didn't. They really didn't know where they were going. I got a letter from Francis from New York City, about two weeks ago, but she said that they were heading out west in a few days. I could try to write to her again from that address, if you want."

"Oh, please do!"

"All right." He took out a pocketbook, wrote something on a piece of paper, tore it out and handed it to her. "This is the address of my flat. If you ever need any help, so money or just a friend to talk to, look me up."

Rose hugged him. "Thank you, Greg. Thank you."

* * *

A few days later, as she was laying out the previous day's newspaper to use as bedding, an article caught her eye: "Youth Killed in Tragic Carriage Accident."

She glanced at it, to see if it was worth reading. Then she felt sick to her stomach.

She carefully reread the article. "University student Gregory Rogers, 20, of Exeter, England… crushed to death by the wheels of a human carriage."

She let out an unearthly scream of despair.

* * *

Luke: That was depressing!

RAEB: Meg, you did it again! You turned this into a soap opera!

Meg: Nah, you should see some of my other stories. I wrote this one about this girl whose lover dies and she misses him so much that she starts to believe that he's speaking to her from beyond the grave, and she starts to go crazy, and then the people around her have to put her away in a mental institution, but she can still hear her dead love's voice, and so one night she manages to escape and goes to the cemetery where he is buried and-

RAEB: Ew! Where do you _get _these insane ideas anyway?

Meg: That one was from listening to too much Evanescence at midnight. This story was probably from listening to too much Evanescence as well.

RAEB: Now I seriously doubt the stability of your mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

Meg: _(yelling at Ratigan) _You moron! Why did you egg and scratch my car?

Ratigan: If you don't already know the answer, then you are a lot more simple-minded that I thought.

Meg: This is a _new_ story. Maybe you're not even in it!

Ratigan: So far about 90 percent of the story has taken place within The Rat Trap. If I don't appear within the next chapter, then I'm a rat.

Luke: But you are a ra- t-OW!

Everyone: _(tackling Luke) _SHUT UP!

Ratigan: _(furious)_ WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?

* * *

"Is Mr. Basil of Baker Street in?" Rose asked anxiously as she stood on the doorstep of Lower 221B Baker Street.

"Yes, he is. Come in, my dear, come in!" the kindly landlady said.

Rose stepped into the flat. It appeared homey yet rather confusing at the same time. There was a table filled with strange apparatus, papers attached with knives to the walls, disorder and yet order everywhere.

"Mr. Basil, there is a young lady to see you," the landlady said.

A young, tan-colored mouse in his early thirties got up from a red armchair. He appeared to be studying Rose.

"Yes?"

"You're Mr. Basil?" Rose asked uncertainly, watching the landlady leave the room.

"Yes, I am. Can I help you with something, Miss…?"

She took a deep breath. "Two months ago, a man by the name of McGeady and his daughter came to you looking for help in finding their… well, his daughter and her sister, Rose," she said, her voice shaking. "Do you remember?"

Basil nodded. "Yes, I remember," he said, a questioning look in his eyes.

"You found her body in an alley, in an old can…" She tried to get her voice steady, but it was harder than she expected.

"Yes, I know all this. And?" He seemed impatient now.

"You… you… Mr. Basil, you found the wrong body," she said, starting to cry. "Rose McGeady stands before you, Mr. Basil! And now my family is gone, gone away to America, to start a new life, and they think I'm dead, and they told no one where they are going! And all because you found the wrong girl! And now that girl's family has no idea where she is, and it's your fault!"

Basil stared in shock at Rose. Then, more to himself than to her, "Is this true?"

"And now… I have nowhere to go. You have my suffering on your conscience, mine and theirs! Mine! And now… and now…" She spat at him. "I have been forsaken."

She burst into tears and fled the flat, leaving Basil shocked and speechless behind her.

* * *

Rose felt dead to the world. Dead. She had nothing now, nothing but an unstable mother a six–hour train trip away, a family who had vanished in the chaos of another country.

She went about her work mechanically, lost in the drudgery of the miserable life she now led. Nights melded into one another; they were all the same, and would always be the same. Her life would always be the same, always be this way, and perhaps even worse.

Scarlet and the other whores knew that Rose's depression might lead her to their way of life, in an attempt to get money or make a change. She did not want the girl to be subjected to that.

Millie once more brought up the gentleman who needed a cleaning woman, the same one she had mentioned when Rose had first appeared at The Rat Trap. Rose had been close to accepting a few times when Scarlet had cut in, discouraging her against it. Scarlet strongly fought Millie over the issue, and Rose could not fathom why. What was so bad about this gentleman?

She was getting desperate. She was so poorly clothed, so underfed and so sad and weary that she was seriously contemplating giving up on everything. Surely death was better than this hell she was enduring.

The waters by the pub were deep, so dark and cold, beckoning for her, beckoning for her to…

She would wake up from her nightmarish and desperate fantasies to discover the black cape wrapped around her, as if to say: _There is someone who cares about you._

But who was it?

* * *

Rose must have fallen into a deep sleep, for when she awoke, she saw that the dingy pub was lit up by the noontime sun, its brilliant rays bursting through the cracks in the walls and the small windows. Had that awoken her?

A sharp kick to her side answered her question.

"What the hell are you doing?" Giovanni roared at the girl, ripping the cape wrapped around her. It took her a few moments to realize that it was another black cape from the nocturnal visitor.

"What?"

"Where did you get this?"

"I don't know."

"So you've stolen it!"

"What? Never! I'm not a thief like you, Gio!"

He gave her another kick to the stomach. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her to her feet. "You've crossed the line this time, girl. It's out in the streets with you!"

The news barely affected Rose, but the accusation of theft did. "But I didn't steal it!"

"Then explain to me why the Boss's own cloak is on your filthy body?"

Rose's eyes grew wide. "The Boss?"

Giovanni shoved her forward, towards the bar. "We're going to pay the Boss a little visit, and if there's anything left of you when he's through with you, then out on the streets you go!"

"No! Let me go, I didn't do anything!"

He pointed a pistol at her. She turned pale.

"You're going, now!"

* * *

Millie smiled in satisfaction as the two passed her kitchen. It was about time the girl got acquainted with the Boss.

* * *

Meg: _(to Ratigan)_ Hey, you didn't appear.

Ratigan: _(sarcastically)_ I wonder who the black cape belongs to.

RAEB: Yeah, that was sort of obvious.

Meg: Grrrrrr.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

JWJ: Why don't you support the Republicans anymore?

Meg: Erm, let's see. Oh yeah, the first big one: GAS PRICES! I mean, who can afford to pay 2.19 a gallon? Around this time last year we thought that 1.40 a gallon was bad.

JWJ: Blame the Middle East.

Meg: Blame the Stock Market for trying to favor their shareholders over the rest of us!

JWJ: You don't know what you're talking about!

Emma: Actually, she's right.

JWJ: No she's not!

Lizz: Can we drop politics for once?

JWJ: NO!

Leigh: Why can't we talk about the story for once?

Meg: Good idea. Ok, just read the next chapter everyone!

* * *

Rose knew this was the end. She was going to die. How mythical the Boss had seemed in the safety of the surface. But here, in the darkness of the sewers, the Boss was as real as the gun Giovanni was pressing into her back.

He held a lantern in one hand, the gun in the other, barking out directions to Rose as he kicked her through the pipes. The cape was draped over his right arm.

He was as pleased as a child who has received what he wants most for Christmas, telling her about all the horrible things the Boss would do to her when he found out what a thief she was. She listened to the gory descriptions as if the Boss himself were there, passing sentence on her.

What she would give to have never started that ridiculous fight with her mother! She could have endured her mother's yelling and insults, because Elaine McGeady was not the Boss. But the Boss was Elaine McGeady one thousand times over. The Boss was everything Elaine McGeady could have been if she had only tried harder. The Boss was…

The Boss.

If there was a God in heaven, then he was not looking into the sewers of London, where a poor girl, barely seventeen years old, was about to meet the Devil.

* * *

Rose climbed out of a grate and looked around her. She caught sight of a large amount of clutter everywhere; large glass bottles, old barrels, trash the humans had no use for anymore.

Light came from an opening in a large barrel with an elegantly lettered 'R' on it. She saw some of the regulars from The Rat Trap standing around the entrance, talking to each other and smoking cigars. To the left there was a cell. Several more barrels appeared to be either inhabited or in use for unknown purposes. The place was filthy and chilly; the perfect lair for such a boogey-man as the Boss.

Giovanni, who had climbed out of the grate behind her, pushed her forward. "There!" he snapped, motioning to the barrel with the 'R'. "The Boss is in there."

After some dispute with the thugs at the entrance, Giovanni was allowed inside. He carried the cape as if it were made of gold.

The thugs looked curiously at Rose. They knew her from the pub as the runaway from Exeter, but they could not fathom what business she had down here.

She said nothing to them. She was too scared to trust herself to be able to speak.

Rose heard Giovanni talking in what sounded like a syrupy sweet voice, but she could not make out what he was saying. Then she heard another voice, low, but rather… suave? Soothing? Colorful? She had no idea how to describe it to herself. Was that the Boss? She had not expected his voice to be like that. Was it someone else? Perhaps the Boss was not in? Maybe someone else would deal with her.

But the cape… she had found it wrapped around her several times before. Had the Boss put it on her? No, he killed those who had no friends. Maybe someone else, someone who hated her, had stolen it from him. But who hated her? The other barmaids did not particularly like her, but they never showed any signs of hating her.

Who could have done such a thing to her, and for so many nights?

"YOU HEARD ME, GIOVANNI!" the voice shouted, suddenly striking terror into Rose's heart. The next moment Giovanni stumbled out of the barrel, still holding the cape.

The bartender shoved the cape into her hands. "He wants you to bring it to him yourself," he snapped, as if Rose had been the reason for his embarrassing exit.

She carefully folded the cape and smoothed the cloth over. She gulped, and then ascended the stairs. She looked back at Giovanni, expecting him to follow her inside the barrel.

He glared at her. "What are you waiting for? Go before he kills you out of impatience!"

Rose took the comment to heart. She hurried inside, clutching the cape to her bosom.

The room she entered was elegant beyond description. The marble floor, the gold throne, the champagne fountain, the human gold and jewels as big as she was, the rich purple curtains, the riches, the luxury… Rose stopped herself. There was no one in the room, save for a large man sitting in an armchair at a desk near the throne, his back to her. She could see his arms on the armrests, and the large, wormlike tail, by his brightly polished shoes.

She took a deep breath, and then approached the armchair.

Some say that moments like these seem to be the longest in their lives. On the contrary, Rose felt that the time taken to cover the distance from the entrance to the back of the chair could have definitely been longer… by about seventy-five years.

She had never felt more exposed in her life than when she stood behind the chair, waiting for the Boss to turn around and pretty much determine whether it was worth it to keep her alive or not. But the Boss was writing on a piece of paper with a silver pen and a white-gloved hand, and it did not appear that he was going to stop anytime soon.

Rose stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Her legs were weak from shaking. She felt dizzy and tottered once or twice. But just as quickly she pinched herself to awaken her senses to the imminent danger she was in.

She recalled everything she had heard about the Boss. 'He sneers at pity'… 'He kills the weak to pass the time'… 'He loves to play games with his prey before going in for the kill'…

Nearly ten minutes passed. She was so filled with fear and anxiety that she wanted to scream out loud, alert the Boss to her presence and get whatever he had in store for her over with. Had the Boss even heard her come in? Was this a game he was playing with her? Perhaps he did not even care about the cape?

Finally the gloved hand put the pen down. It opened a drawer, took out an envelope, took up the pen again, wrote something on the envelope, put the pen back down, put the papers he had been writing in the envelope, and then sealed it.

"Fidget!" the voice called out.

The peg-legged bat that Rose had seen so many times in The Rat Trap hobbled into the room. Running up to the desk, he said, "Ye-yeah?"

"Take this to Campbell immediately. And don't get sidetracked this time!"

"I won't, I won't!" the bat exclaimed as he took the letter and hobbled back out of the room.

Rose's throat tightened. All this time the Boss had not left his chair. She heard something like a click, and then saw a puff of smoke rise from the armchair.

"So Giovanni tells me that you've stolen my opera cape," the voice said unemotionally. Rose jumped at the sound of his smooth voice. "I told him no, that there is no possible way a barmaid could have made it all the way to my lair, taken my opera cape, and gone back to The Rat Trap without my knowing it. But-" here he motioned with a cigarette holder (Rose now knew what the click and the smoke had been from) "- he has the proof."

There was an uneasy silence.

"Now explain to me how you came across my opera cape, Miss McGeady."

Rose's eyes grew wide. The Boss knew her name! She was ready to panic. _Wait a moment, calm down… he probably learned it from Giovanni. But Giovanni doesn't know my last name. No one does, because I never told anyone what it was._

"I… I don't know, sir. All I know is that I was asleep one moment, and awake the next, with this… your… opera cape… draped over me."

The Boss smirked. "Is that so?" The cigarette holder disappeared for a moment and then reappeared as another puff of smoke rose from the chair. "Miss McGeady, are you suggesting that my opera cape got up of its own accord and _waltzed_ its way into The Rat Trap, only to throw itself over your-" he paused, and then chuckled, "-body?"

Rose only wished she could see his face. Maybe then he would appear less terrifying. Maybe then she would be able to read him, to predict how he wanted her to answer him.

"No, sir. But perhaps someone else has been doing it," she said, trying her best to appear honest, unafraid.

"_Has_? _HAS?_ What do you mean, _has_? This has happened before?" the voice asked sharply.

Rose nodded, but then realized that that motion was pointless when she was not even facing him. "Ever since The Rat Trap was broken into last month, Giovanni told me I had to wait by the back door and let the Boss's… erm, _your_ men, into the pub after hours. Several times I have fallen asleep, and woken up to find this same cape on me. Each time I took it, folded it back up, put it in my room, and went back to work. But whenever I'd gone back to my room later, it was gone."

"Gone, you say?" The Boss sounded amused. "Are you sure you weren't imagining things?"

"Positive."

"But my opera cape has never been missing until this morning. Now are you certain that you weren't imagining things?"

"I am as certain of that as I am of the fact that the sky is blue."

The Boss laughed. "Well, that fact can be debated," he said quietly. Then, in a louder voice, he said, "Are you suggesting that my cape has disappeared from right under my nose and been returned to me several times, without me noticing it until this particular incident?"

"Yes."

"You sound rather certain of yourself, Miss McGeady. Do you know who you are talking to?"

She hesitated. Was this a trick question?

"Yes… You're… the Boss."

He laughed again. "A poor alias for those too ignorant to hold their tongues. You are ignorant as well, Miss McGeady, but not in the same way as your customers and fellow coworkers at The Rat Trap. Theirs comes from an inability to handle official authority. Yours comes from inexperience of the real world. Otherwise, you probably would not be here now, would you?"

She thought it was a rhetorical question, until he repeated, "Would you not be here otherwise?" in an impatient voice.

"No sir, I wouldn't."

"No… no respectable young girl in her right mind would have ever come here." The Boss continued, "But here you are, in the sewers of London. You know what they say about the sewers?"

"No, sir."

"'Those who enter never return the same as they were before,'" the Boss said in a low, dangerous voice. Then he laughed again, as if it had been the funniest joke in the world. "Now, I could stay here, talking to you from this very comfortable chair. I don't have to see you, and you don't have to see me. Perhaps then you would have a better chance of leaving this place, forgetting about your time here, living a simple, carefree, ignorant existence. Or I could turn around, look into your face, and completely change the course of your life. You would no longer be one of the ignorant masses that this world has too much of." Then, more to himself than to her, "Which choice is better?"

Rose shivered. _What is he talking about?_

"What will it be? Ignorance or knowledge?"

"Sir?"

She heard another click, but it was loud and metallic.

"What will it be, Miss McGeady? Answer me, _now._"

Rose realized what he was doing. He was forcing her to choose her own fate.

She thought rapidly. Ignorance- she would never see his face. She could leave this underworld. She might be able to see her family again. But would she escape alive, or dead? Knowledge- she would see his face. She could not leave, because she might reveal his identity to the police. She would definitely never see her family again.

_It would be a pity to be so ignorant._

_He sneers at pity._

She took a deep breath. "Knowledge, sir. I want knowledge."

A long puff of smoke rose from the chair. One gloved hand appeared and set a revolver down on the table.

"Smart girl," he murmured, sounding impressed.

Finally the Boss got up from his chair, turned around, and faced Rose.

"Rose McGeady, allow me to introduce myself." He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. She felt chills go down her spine. "Professor James Ratigan, at your service."

* * *

Luke: Dude!

Everyone: What?

Luke: That was a pretty cool chapter! I mean, you made the Boss so freakin' evil and weird. And how he was playing with Rose…awesome!

Meg: _(drops jaw)_ That was the first really great compliment I have received from anyone on this review team. Wow, thanks.

Ratigan: Of course, I'd like to debate that last paragraph.

Meg: So what if you kissed her hand? You're being evil, because you were going to shoot her, and then you decide to be a gentleman. It throws people off.

Ratigan: You've been watching one too many chick flicks, I think.

Meg: I hate chick flicks.

Ratigan: Then why are all your stories so…

JWJ: Chick-flicky?

Ratigan: Not my personal choice of words, but yes.

Meg: _(sighs) _I don't know. I do it on purpose just to annoy you. Happy?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

_(JWJ sets up a bucket over a doorway.)_

Leigh: What are you doing?

JWJ: Shhhh, she's coming!

_(They hide. Ratigan opens the door, where the bucket tips over and pours raw eggs all over him.)_

Ratigan: WHO DID THIS? WHERE IS MEG? I'M GOING TO KILL HER!

_(Runs off)_

JWJ: _(laughing)_ Man, I thought Meg was going to come through. This is even better than I expected!

* * *

"And then?" Scarlet asked eagerly.

Rose shrugged. "The most baffling thing of all happened. He offered me a _job._"

"_What?_ Yer kiddin'!"

The young girl shook her head. "No, I am not."

It was later that evening. Scarlet had heard from gossip on the streets that Giovanni took Rose to see the Boss, and had come running as fast as she could, fearing the worst.

But instead she had found the girl in the kitchen, washing her clothes in the big tub Millie kept in there, a little nervous and distracted, but otherwise fine.

"Why did 'e offer ye a job? Ye, of all people?"

Rose frowned as she hung up her dress to dry. "I don't know," she admitted. "It scares me…"

She thought back to her first impression of Professor Ratigan. He was a heterogeneous mixture of everything Rose had expected the Boss to be and not be. She had anticipated the Boss to be some sort of nightmarish boogey-man, with large features and a deformed face, dressed in black from head to foot. The image had been sort of vague, but it had been vivid enough in her fantasies. What she had not expected were the details.

Although Professor Ratigan had been wearing a black suit, he had a pink and purple cravat to go with it. It was elegant and fitting for his character. And his face was not deformed, but unique and also terrifying in its own way. He had been grinning at her when she first laid eyes upon him, but in such a way that she felt like he would take up the revolver on the desk at any wrong move and do away with her anyway. She wondered how it would feel to have him not smiling at her. After thinking about it for a while, she decided that she did not want to find out.

He was a rat—that was certain. His large features, his worm-like tail, his yellow eyes could tell her that much.

His eyes frightened her the most. There was no kindness in those eyes; only a sort of amused mirth, as if it pleased him to know that he had made her fear for her life. She wondered how many people had looked into those eyes before the icy grip of death had closed them forever…

"_He_ scares me…" Rose added quietly.

"What sort o' job did 'e offer ye?" Scarlet asked cautiously.

"He wants me to do his cleaning and cooking and laundry for him."

"But… why?"

"I already told you, I don't know," Rose said uneasily. "He said that Giovanni told me about how he was going to turn me out… and said that he could help me if I helped him."

"So 'e didn't kill ye for taking 'is cloak?"

"No. Does he normally do such a thing?"

"Well, I never 'eard of someone ever actually stealing 'is cloak, but if someone attempted it, 'e'd probably catch 'em and kill 'em quicker than ye can say 'Long live the Queen.'"

"But I didn't steal the cape!" She paused before saying, "Maybe he knows that I never took it."

Scarlet looked doubtful. "Maybe… but still…" Suddenly the whore's eyes grew wide. "What's the deal 'ere?"

"Deal? What deal?"

"Well, 'e probably made a deal with ye about the job, right? Did 'e ask ye to keep mum about 'is… ye know, operations, down there?"

Rose scrubbed furiously at the undergarments in the tub. "The deal is to not leave. I have to stay here, at the pub. I have to go down during the day, do the cleaning and laundry and such, and then come back here at night."

"What'd ye get in return?"

"A salary and room and board here."

"A _better_ room, I 'ope?"

"Yes, much better. It's not very big, but at least it has a bed to sleep in."

"Well, that's better than before," Scarlet said sadly.

"Miss Scarlet? What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it, love."

"No, I want to know."

Scarlet wrung her hands. "Are ye 'appy with this deal?"

Rose shrugged. "I don't think I really have much of a choice there. Miss Scarlet, he was going to _kill me_ if I didn't accept that job."

"Mayhaps death would 'ave been better."

"Miss Scarlet?"

She shot Rose a dark look. "Don't ye see? Ye can't ever leave this place anymore! Yer stuck 'ere until ye die or get yerself killed. Ye can never see yer family no more!"

Rose nodded sadly. "I know."

"Then why'd ye accept the deal?"

"Because I had no other choice!"

Scarlet sighed. "Ye should 'ave gone back 'ome long ago."

"I know that! Can't you see that I know that? Running away was the most foolish thing I have ever done! If I hadn't been so proud I would have gone back home two months ago! But I insisted that I was right, and as a result, I have lost everything."

"And now ye might even lose more than everythin'."

"What?"

Scarlet closed her eyes. "Love, jest lissen. Things 'appen in the sewers. Please, take care of yerself."

She rushed out of the room before Rose could see the tears in her eyes.

* * *

When Rose reported to work the next morning in the sewers, Millie met her at the entrance to the large barrel with the 'R' on it. Taking the surprised girl's hand, she gave her a tour of Ratigan's domain. Millie told Rose where she was allowed to go and not go, what her duties were, what she was expected to do and not do, and some other aspects of her new job.

Rose set about her work nervously as Millie looked on. None of the professor's men were anywhere in sight the whole morning. She was thankful for that. She was also grateful to the cook for giving her advice, telling her which supplies to use and how to get the jobs done more quickly. Millie also caught the girl several times before she made mistakes, such as when she nearly knocked over valuable items from tables or burnt food.

Millie left her sometime in the evening, claiming that she had to get back to her job at The Rat Trap. "The Professor likes to have dinner around seven. Have it ready in that first room off to the right of the throne room. That's his study."

"I will. Thank you so much Millie."

Millie chuckled. "Don't mention it."

* * *

Millie was crossing over to the grate when she heard someone say, "Acting the part of the fairy godmother now? Should I be preparing for a ball?"

The cook jumped and looked towards the large barrel. Professor Ratigan was leaning languidly against the doorway, a dark glimmer in his eyes.

"I thought you said she was experienced at these regular household tasks," he said dryly.

"She is, sir. She just needed someone to show her around a bit, to let her know what to do and what to keep her nose out of."

"I hope I did not just make a bad business deal. A wrong move could turn disastrous for your little friend."

Millie scoffed. "I don't have friends."

"Oh, that's good to know. I was starting to ponder the state of the world, where people betrayed their friends."

"I didn't betray her."

"The first and second time you stole my cape and put it on that girl, I thought you had a personal grudge against her. The third time, I thought you had a personal grudge against _me_. But by the fourth time, I figured out the problem."

"What problem?" Millie asked uneasily.

He laughed. "Your grudge against _working_ for me, of course. You hate being down here. I knew that Giovanni forced you to take the job after Agatha died. You've been eyeing that girl to replace you ever since she arrived."

Millie started to twist a lock of her yellow hair around her index finger. "That ain't true."

"Oh, spare me. I'm only holding it against you until that girl proves her value to me. Then I'll let you off the hook."

"She won't disappoint you, sir."

"She had better not. If she does, you're back down here for good."

* * *

_(Ratigan barges into room, still covered in raw eggs. Meg and Luke are playing a computer game. Meg looks up, hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh. Lukepays no attention.)_

Ratigan: WHO DID THIS?

Luke: It was probably me. I'm always messing stuff up. What'd I do?

Ratigan: WHAT?

Luke: _(looks up, turns pale) _Hey, I didn't do that!

Ratigan: I AM GOING TO KILL BOTH OF YOU!

Luke: But I didn't-

Meg: Don't open your mouth next time, Einstein. RUN!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

_(Meg and Luke hide in a closet.)_

Meg:Thanks Luke. Just thanks.

Luke: You know, for someone who's forced me to join this story, I think you're being awfully ungrateful!

Meg: Why did you tell Ratigan that you probably did it before you even knew what it was?

Luke: 'Cause I'm usually the cause of trouble anywhere!

Meg: _(sarcastically)_ You have _great_ confidence in yourself.

* * *

Working for the Boss was a strange and unnerving experience. Rose reported to work at seven in the morning to a usually deserted sewer and set about her tasks. Ratigan habitually left his private chambers around eight and gave her a list of things that she needed to do for the day. He did not talk to her much after that; he either withdrew to his study to work on something or left for the day. Rose never knew where he went or what he did. She decided that it would be safer for her not to know too much about this man's personal habits.

Sometimes in the afternoon a thug or two would appear to see the Professor. On a few occasions Ratigan called the thugs to meetings where he revealed some diabolical plan to them, even while Rose was doing something in the throne room.

The first plan she ever heard burned itself into her memory until her dying day. Ratigan plotted to blackmail an old widow of noble birth for everything she was worth to keep hidden something her late husband had done years before. The thugs loved the idea. Rose wanted to vomit.

How could this man do such a thing to an old, innocent lady?

She wanted to go to the police and stop this deviltry before it was too late. But then, at that same meeting, Ratigan had accused one of his henchmen of betraying part of a former plan that had failed to Basil of Baker Street. The mouse denied it.

Then Ratigan pulled out the bell.

Rose quickly learned that disobedience and betrayal could result in a meeting with Felicia.

She debated the issue. She knew that Ratigan was a criminal mastermind; she had done her homework and found out as much about the former professor as she could. He was a genius, but a genius with a dark side that hungered for crime and all its complexities. She knew that she would probably be killed if she ever revealed anything to the police. But was it right to let him continue with his crimes, especially since she was now in a position to give information about them and possibly stop them?

She constantly fought with herself, trying to choose between her life and her morals. But then she found out that the widow had given in to Ratigan's demands. After that, an enemy of the Professor's was found in the Thames with a hole in his head. Then one of the members of Parliament mysteriously disappeared. A ship carrying a hold filled with goods from Siam entered London with half its cargo missing.

All these incidents reached Rose through the newspapers. But they were not news to her. They were only confirmations of the fact that she was involved with evil people, people from whom there was no escape, not unless she did not value her own life.

Strangely enough, the first two months in the employ of Professor Ratigan were much better than her first two months working as a barmaid at The Rat Trap had been. Giovanni was liberal with smacking his barmaids when they made mistakes or when he was just in a bad mood, not to mention that he was a crook to boot, stealing wages from his barmaids.

On the contrary, working for Professor Ratigan was fairly easy. Most of the cleaning only had to be done once a week, as did washing laundry. Laundry was a whole week affair anyway, with waiting for clothes to dry and then having to iron them, but Rose still had plenty of spare time between those tasks and cooking the meals to do whatever she wanted. She read _A Tale of Two Cities _twice through, but was bored after the second reading. She began to eye the large collection of books in the study. Most of them were scientific, mathematical books or technological books, but when she pulled one of them off the shelf one day, she discovered a second row of books behind the first row, most of them novels. She had made sure no one was looking before slipping a copy of _Jane Eyre _into her pocket. She would return it of course. Besides, how would anyone notice that one measly book was missing?

Ratigan barely acknowledged Rose's presence, which relieved Rose. The less contact she had with him, the better. His contact, though, had provided a bed for her to sleep in, food to eat, and finally some money that she used to buy herself some new clothes and toiletries.

She often noted the irony of this evil man who had done so much to improve her quality of life.

* * *

_(Emma opens the closet door, causing Meg and Luke to scream.)_

Emma: What are you two doing?

Luke: Hiding. Ratigan wants to kill us. Who threw egg yolks on him anyway?

Emma: I don't know. But Meg, Ratigan sort of trashed your room.

Meg: WHAT?

Emma: Yeah, he ripped up your copy of _Jane Eyre, The Phantom of the Opera,_ and _The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes_, your pictures of Basil, your stories, and stole your Disney figurines and your CDs.

Meg: WHAT? What does he want with those things?

Emma: Don't ask me.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

Meg: This meeting of the Lizz Mafia in now in session.

RAEB: The Lizz Mafia has been in existence for over a year and a half. Why are we having our first meeting now?

Meg: Because desperate times call for desperate measures. We have to plot how to get rid of Ratigan and get him to give me my stuff back.

Leigh: Why? Who cares about your stuff? I mean, those CDs are worthless. Who listens to Modest Mouse and Les Misérables and Ray Charles anyway?

Meg: I DO!

Lizz: Who's Ray Charles?

Emma: You don't know who Ray Charles is?

Meg: STOP! Please, can we get back to the subject, mainly about how I am going to get my stuff back?

Leigh: Nah. Ratigan might hold a grudge against the rest of us. Come on, let's go do something better than this.

_(Everyone leaves)_

Meg: Grrrrrrrr!

* * *

_It's my birthday_, Rose thought to herself as she got dressed on the morning of June 22, 1896.

_I am seventeen._

Her heart ached with the thought that it was her first birthday alone. She wondered where her father and sisters were. She had dreamed of them last night. They had all stood in front of the Statue of Liberty and played hide-and-seek, but no one could seem to find Jessica. Rose and Gwen had went onto a boat to look for her, where Giovanni appeared and told Rose that he was going to fire her for forgetting to go to work.

Then she had woken up to reality.

Rose looked at herself in the cracked full-length mirror that leaned by the door to her small attic room. She had on a new green dress and had piled up her hair in an elegant, twisted bun this morning for the occasion. She tried smiling in a sophisticated way to make herself look older. A few moments later she gave up, determining that the expression just made her look stupid.

She sighed. It was not like anyone knew or cared that it was her birthday. She had never liked birthdays herself; all that fuss about getting a year older had just seemed unnecessary. This year, however, she yearned for the fuss, the enjoyment of knowing that some people cared about her birth. That was why she had dressed up today. She usually wore her old clothes from when she had run away four months ago while she was in the lair so the thugs or Professor Ratigan would not take much notice of her. Today she wanted someone to notice her, to see that she was more than just another mouse just getting by.

She straightened her dress, taking one last good look at herself in the mirror. She actually looked nice for once.

"Happy birthday to me," she muttered.

* * *

When she got down to Ratigan's lair, she regretted her earlier wish to stand out. The Professor was red in the face from yelling at about a dozen of his henchmen.

"HE'S IN BRISTOL? WE HAVE FOURTEEN HOURS; HOW THE HELL IS HE SUPPOSED TO GET BACK HERE BY THEN?"

"I dunno," one of them said. "He just went off on his own; didn't tell no one until he got there."

"AM I SUPPOSED TO DO EVERYTHING? I NEED HIM HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

No one said anything.

"Can't we do it, Professor?" Bill asked.

"Oh, now why didn't I think of that _before_?" Ratigan asked in a singsong voice. "_You _can help me, can't you now?"

"Why, sure," he said uneasily.

Rose started to make her way to the kitchen, just wanting to get out of the way.

"Sit then," Ratigan said in that same singsongy tone, motioning to the desk.

Bill sat down as Ratigan placed a piece of paper and a pen before him.

"Copy this down," Ratigan said. The lizard took up the pen, looking very frightened. "'Dear Mr. Hamilton- If you want to protect your investments, come to the East India Docks this evening at a quarter past ten. There will be a fisherman waiting for you. After making sure that you are unarmed, he will take you out to'- Bill, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" He snatched up the paper. "You worthless reptile, 'dear' isn't spelled D-E-E-R!"

"I… I wasn't quite sure, Professor-"

"And why weren't you sure?" Ratigan asked angrily.

"Because I don't know that word-"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE AN UNEDUCATED BUM! ALL OF YOU! Tom, spell 'investment' for me!"

"Eh… E-N-"

"Stop, STOP!" Ratigan tore the piece of paper up. "WHAT DO I EVEN PAY YOU FOR? SOMEONE GO FIND WILKES AND BRING HIM BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY!"

"But he's in Bri-"

"I DON'T CARE! SOMEONE DO IT, OR ELSE I WILL HAVE SOMEONE'S HEAD FOR IT!"

The whole group hurried out of the room. Rose sighed as she went into the kitchen. Ratigan's temper could change in an instant, but it normally did not affect her. He had never taken out his anger on her before; she would have been extremely surprised if he had started now.

* * *

Around eight o'clock Rose took Ratigan's breakfast to him in his study, where he was furiously writing something on a chalkboard. She wordlessly placed the food on the table.

Ratigan shot a quick glance at her, but then turned back to the chalkboard. Rose turned and headed toward the door.

"Rose, come here."

She turned around. "Yes, sir?"

Ratigan grinned. "You can read and write, of course."

Her heart sank, knowing what he wanted.

"No sir, I cannot," she lied.

His grin turned into a frown. "You cannot read or write?"

"Well, I can write my name. That's all I was ever taught to do."

He held out a piece of chalk to her. "Write your name."

She bit her lower lip, pretending to be thinking hard about it. She slowly wrote an R, then a sloppy O, a Z, E, M, C, G, E, E, backward D, and Y on the chalkboard.

She set the chalk down. Ratigan smirked. He erased the board and started to write.

When he was finished, he stepped back for her to see what was written on the board. It said:

_Rose, if you are not out of this room in fifteen seconds, I will shoot you._

_Once you have left, count to thirty and come back in. Go to the chalkboard, write your name on the board, and sit down at the desk. Fail to do this, and you forfeit your life. _

_I also want JANE EYRE back when you are finished reading it._

Rose's eyes grew wide. Ratigan was counting, "Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten-"

She bolted out the door. Slamming it behind her, she gasped for breath and closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves. What was she going to do? How did he know that she had taken the book? It had been about two weeks ago. Did he just notice that it was missing?

She realized that she was supposed to be counting to thirty. How long had she been out here?

She figured that it had probably been fifteen to twenty seconds, so she counted to ten and went back inside.

Ratigan was sitting at the table, helping himself to his breakfast. His eyes followed Rose as she went up to the chalkboard and wrote _Rose McGeady_ in cursive. Then she sat down at the desk, where pen and paper had been laid out for her.

"Are you ready to cooperate?" Ratigan asked nonchalantly.

Rose did not trust herself to speak. She simply nodded.

"Good. Now, copy this down: 'Dear Mr. Hamilton- If you want to protect your investments…'"

Rose began to write, trying only to concentrate on Ratigan's words rather than the meaning behind them. She did not want to know what she was doing, how she was contributing to Ratigan's plans.

When that letter was finished, he made her write out an almost identical one to a Mr. Frederick. After that there was one to Mr. Bilson, Mr. Greenwood, Mr. Noir, Mr. James…

By this time Ratigan had finished breakfast and was back at the chalkboard writing some equations out on it, still dictating to her. Rose's hand was starting to get tired from writing, but she continued with it anyway.

Finally, about three hours and forty letters later, Ratigan stopped her with a "That's all of them. Take the envelopes and address them with each man's name on the front, then put the letters inside."

Now Ratigan joined her at the desk. As she finished with each envelope he would take the letter and put a seal on them.

Fidget had come in by this time to report that Wilkes was still missing, to which Ratigan just barked at Fidget to take some of the finished envelopes to the men they were addressed to.

Rose finally finished with the last envelope and flexed her hand, trying to get feeling back into it. She had never written so much in one stretch before, and she felt exhausted.

Ratigan stamped his seal onto the last envelope and set it down. He yawned and then looked at Rose.

"I have no need for you anymore," he said. "You can go back to your work."

She quickly got up and cleared away the breakfast dishes that were still on the table, only thinking of getting out of the room.

As she left, she wondered, _What have I just done?

* * *

_The throne room was more crowded than usual today. Thugs were running in and out of the room all day, some carting big crates, others bearing with Ratigan's temper as he shouted out orders and released a string of abuses against anyone who happened to be around for problems and frustrations. Rose thought it best to hide in the kitchen for the rest of the day.

She had made up her mind. When she left at eight o'clock, she was going straight to the police. She knew from the letters that she had written for him that Ratigan was going to be at the East India Docks tonight, perhaps on a ship called _The Scottsdale_, with most of his gang. He would be trapped.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she would be famous for turning him in. Maybe her father and sisters would hear about how she had turned him in, and write back to England, and then she would know where they were and go to them…

Yes, she would do it.

* * *

Rose left the kitchen at eight. Most of the thugs were still there, talking to each other in low voices. Ratigan leaned over Fidget and made angry hand motions as he berated him for something that Rose could not hear him describe. She was glad because he was too busy to notice her.

She was halfway across the room when she heard someone call her name. She turned around and saw Ratigan walking toward her.

She was rooted to the spot. Could he somehow read her mind and know what she was about to do?

"Where are you going?" Ratigan asked.

"Home, sir. To my flat."

"I need to hold you back for a little while longer. Do you have that book with you?"

Rose pulled _Jane Eyre _out of her pocket. "Yes, sir."

"Come with me."

He strode out of the barrel, Rose hurrying after him. They crossed the sewer, heading to one of the cells. Rose grew uneasy.

She watched him as he opened one of the cells. He held the door open for her and motioned for her to enter first. She passed, and he followed her into the room.

He went to one of the lamps and lit it. Then he went back to the door. "You don't mind staying here for the night," he said, sounding unusually pleased with himself.

"Sir?"

"You've been an invaluable help to me today, Rose. I reward those who are of use to me. I also repay betrayal. I'm sure you don't want to meet Felicia now, do you?"

"No, sir," she said softly. "But I didn't betray you."

"The best way to prevent something is to remove the means by which it can be carried out. You understand, of course."

"Yes, sir."

"You're a good girl. Perhaps I can get some more use out of you. Good night, Rose."

"Good night, sir," she said as he closed and locked the door behind him.

She stood there for a few minutes with the novel in her hands, thinking hard about what to do next. She had always thought that if she was locked up, that she would have fought to go into the cell. She was a little disappointed with herself for simply walking in.

She understood why Ratigan had locked her up. He knew that she was uncomfortable, and even guilty with being involved. He suspected that she might go to the police. It made sense to her, and in a way she was relieved. She would not have to risk her life now. It was just somewhat frustrating that he was smart enough to think one step ahead of her after she had finally decided to go to the authorities.

She looked at the book in her hand. _How kind of him_, she thought sarcastically, _he's even left me with the means to entertain myself. _

She then reflected with guilt on the men she had written the letters to. She had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to them. She had to attempt an escape!

She tried the door even though she already knew it was locked. She then proceeded to inspect the cell. She was familiar with it; she had to clean it at least once a month. But she had never seen another way out of there besides the door.

After a thorough five-minute search she decided that she was trapped. So she sat herself down on the bed and opened the book, determined to lose herself in the world of Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester and forget all about the day's events.

* * *

Meg: Awww, wasn't that nice of Ratigan to leave Rose with some reading material!

Emma: He'll want to hurt you for that. Where is he anyway?

Meg: I don't know. Haven't seen him for a while, and really hoping it stays that way.

Lizz: _(running in)_ Meg, RAEB and I think we just found Ratigan. He's in your car, blaring out Disturbed.

Meg: _(drops jaw)_ He likes ANRGY music?

Leigh: Wait, you don't own Disturbed. That's my CD!

Meg: Oops. Guess I borrowed it and forgot to return it.

Leigh: Jerk.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

* * *

Meg: Thanks erosgirl for correcting me on 'bribing.' I did mean to say 'blackmail' in Chapter Eight.

* * *

Rose woke up the next morning to the realization that she had spent all night in the cell. She yawned and stretched. Getting up, she went over to the barred-window in the door and looked out at the area around the barrel. There was no one in sight, but she could hear voices from the barrel.

She withdrew from the window. Had the Professor forgotten about her?

Rose sat down on the small cot. She did not know what to do. Being locked up had not bothered her the night before; she had passed the time pleasantly reading about Jane's experiences after she left Thornfield and Mr. Rochester. Even though the experiences were different, Rose left like she could relate to Jane's suffering after running away.

Rose turned on the lamp and picked up the book again. She only had about thirty pages left; she decided the finish it before she could worry about the whereabouts of Professor Ratigan and the other thugs.

She was so enthralled in her book that she was not aware that the door had been unlocked until Fidget hobbled into the room.

"Miz Rose, Professor Ratigan wants to see ya," he said in his hoarse voice.

Rose stood up and followed the bat to the throne room, where about half of Ratigan's gang was passed out on the floor and the other half was counting the boxes of loot they had picked up the night before.

Fidget continued to the study, where Ratigan was leaning over the table, reading a newspaper.

"I brought Miz Rose, Professor," Fidget said.

"Good. Leave us."

The bat nodded vigorously before leaving the room.

Ratigan looked up at Rose. He motioned to the newspaper. "Last night was a success my dear, thanks to my brain and your aide."

Rose blushed. "I didn't do anything."

Ratigan laughed. "Of course you did."

"Well, what exactly did I do?"

"You've had an education, something about ninety-eight percent of those dimwits who work for me don't have."

"There was a school at Exeter. My father wanted us all to have educations."

"You have a family?"

"Yes."

"A well-to-do family? In Exeter?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you here?"

"I… I ran away, sir. And they… well, the family I loved… moved away. A few months ago."

Ratigan seemed surprised. "From your manner, one would hardly guess that you are a runaway. How old are you?"

"Sixteen… well, actually, I'm seventeen. Yesterday was my birthday."

"And you spent it writing letters and sitting in a prison cell. I suppose you want some allowance for it."

"You don't have to do that, sir. I really didn't mind. I got to read _Jane Eyre_."

A small smile appeared on his lips. "Do you like it here Rose?"

"No," she blurted out. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and looked down at her feet.

Ratigan smirked. "I am sorry to hear that. Why not?"

"Well, it's not home…"

He handed the newspaper to her. "Read that."

Rose looked at the headline: BLAST AT EAST INDIA DOCKS; FORTY MEN KILLED.

Her heart sank. She read the article; a ship in the harbor had exploded, killing forty men who were on a ship called _The Scottsdale_. Scotland Yard suspected that the men were involved in some sort of illegal business gone bad, from letters written in the same hand that were left at several of the men's homes. They were thought to be the work of one Professor Ratigan, former professor of mathematics at Oxford. The best of Mouseland Yard, as well as Basil of Baker Street, were already on the case.

When she had finished, she gave Ratigan a horrified look. He appeared amused by her shock.

"What does this mean, Rose?"

"You… you did this!"

"No. _We_ did this. And if the Yard ever finds out where this lair is, you will be thrown in jail and put on trial for the murder of forty men. Forty is a pretty big number, my dear."

"What?" she asked weakly.

"You're pale, Rose. Perhaps you should sit down," he said in a mockingly sympathetic voice.

She stumbled into a chair, feeling sick to her stomach. "I… I never meant to do this! I didn't want to do this!"

"You wrote the letters yourself. They could easily match your handwriting with those in the letters."

"But… no!"

"But yes!" Ratigan said, laughing evilly. "Oh, they will not have pity on you. They'd sooner canonize me as a saint. You're a criminal now, my dear."

"No! Never!"

"You wanted knowledge, Rose. Don't you remember?"

"Not this knowledge… not this! I'll be arrested, I'll go to jail… they'll hang me!" Rose shot him a wild look. He was leaning against one of the bookshelves, arms folded, wearing an awful grin on his face, delighting in her misfortune. "They'll… hang me…" she whispered, as if a Yard official were standing in the room with them.

Ratigan strode over to the armchair. Placing one hand on each armrest, he leaned in until their noses nearly touched. "Yes, they will hang you. That is, unless you keep your mouth shut," Ratigan said in a deadly tone. "I could have gotten rid of you when Giovanni first brought you down here. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd disposed of some worthless runaway just scraping to get by. No one would have missed you, no one who mattered."

_Then why didn't you? _Rose wanted to ask. Only fear halted her tongue. He was so close to her, leaning over her like that, and looking at her with those horrible yellow eyes. She felt utterly trapped.

"Sir?" she squeaked.

"Why didn't I?" Ratigan said, as if he had been reading her thoughts the whole time. "I'm a man of unpredictable impulses. I needed a cleaning woman, you needed a job, and you amused me with your honesty and innocence. I wanted to see how long it would take to corrupt you."

Rose was furious with his blatant and deliberate answers, and nearly replied with a sharp retort. One glance into those cold, cruel eyes dissolved the words before they came out of her mouth.

"And… and now?" she asked, hardly knowing what she was saying.

Luckily for her, the professor interpreted what she asked in his own way. "Oh, you haven't been corrupted yet. But I am working on it. Besides, I'm used to you. Agatha was a good servant, but hardened in the ways of the world. You're young and unassuming, and have a bit of intelligence. I can still make some use of you."

Rose's chest heaved as she silently gasped for air _I can still make some use of you_. He had said something to that extent last night. What did he mean by those words?

Ratigan seemed bored with the conversation. He straightened himself up and walked over to the desk. Opening a drawer, he rummaged around in it for a while. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Of… what?" Rose had practically forgotten the point of the conversation.

"You keep my secrets, I keep yours, and everyone prospers." He found what he had been looking for, a small velvet case that he set on the desk, and then shut the drawer.

Rose swallowed hard. She felt so drained, as if his eyes had sucked all her energy out of her. She wanted to know if she had to help him commit another crime again, but she did not trust herself to not say anything that might offend him.

"Rose!" he snapped. "Are you going to cooperate or not?"

"Ye-yes, sir. I'll cooperate."

"Come here."

She got up from the chair and went over to him, stopping when she was a few feet away. He sharply regarded her. "Betray me once, just once," he said in a cold tone, "and I will make you wish you had never been born. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He turned to the desk, picked up the velvet case, and handed it to her. "For your cooperation yesterday."

Rose turned red. She pushed the case back towards him. "I-I can't accept this, sir. I didn't do anything."

"I detest modesty. I'm giving this to you because you earned it. Now take it!"

She opened the case with trembling fingers. Inside she found a gorgeous silver oval-shaped locket with an elegant letter R inscribed on it. She opened the locket; there was nothing inside but a small mirror.

She looked up at him, speechless.

"You have the day off. Now leave."

She slowly started for the door, trying to get herself to say something. Finally, when she was at the door, she said, "Thank you, sir."

"Goodbye Rose!" he said with impatience, waving her away.

When she entered the pipes, she ran all the way back to The Rat Trap, not once daring to look back.

* * *

Once within the safety of her room, she curled herself up on the bed and hugged her pillow, trying to sort out everything that had just happened.

Ratigan had spared her life, had allowed her to go back to the surface… did that mean that he trusted her? That he would not kill her? Why did he give her that locket? He did not have to give it to her, but he had anyway. Did he want her to do something else for him later? Help with another crime? How could she possibly help now, with so much blood already on her hands?

She felt so guilty, so tainted, so evil…

She awoke with a start. She must have fallen asleep. She looked out her small window at the bright and sunny afternoon.

Before she could change her mind, she grabbed her hat, pocketed the velvet case containing the locket, and left her room, determined not to come back until she had informed the authorities of what she had done.

* * *

Lizz: This story is weird.

Meg: It gets weirder.

RAEB: How? Any more love stories?

Meg: Yeah, that would make it really weird, wouldn't it? The outcome is a surprise.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

* * *

Luke: _(sarcastically) _Gee, thanks.

Meg: For what?

Luke: All that hiding in that closet. I got home late and my parents practically killed me. I'm now grounded!

Meg: Yeah, well it's better than Ratigan actually killing you.

Luke: How come my life has been in danger ever since I joined this stupid author's notes thing?

Meg: _(sigh)

* * *

_Rose did not know where Mouseland Yard was, so she had no choice but to ask someone on the street. _Mistake number one_, she thought to herself after she asked a portly gentleman, who gave her the directions in a big, booming voice at least half the street could hear.

Despite the man's directions, she quickly got lost in the labyrinth of streets. This resulted in a few more conversations with pedestrians, who demanded to know why she wanted to know. She skillfully avoided their questions, but left them with a feeling that they were not satisfied.

She tried to avoid shady-looking characters in the streets, convinced that they were all working for Ratigan. She was jumpy and her hands shook as she took long strides to ease wave after wave of nausea. Why had she worn a cloak? It stood out in this rather warm afternoon, possibly attracting unwanted attention.

It was by chance that she made it as far as the entrance to the Yard. At the door to the imposing building, however, she could not force herself to make those final steps inside.

_No turning back once I'm inside._

_Turn back!_

_No! It wouldn't be right!_

_It wouldn't be right not to keep your word to him._

_Who? That horrible man? The one who put me in this position?_

_The one who gave you that locket._

_A birthday present! To make up for inconveniencing me._

_Then why does it have an 'R' on it? That certainly can't stand for Ratigan…_

Rose was sweating, clenching her white hands as another wave of nausea nearly made her fall to her knees. She backed away from the Yard. _Not now… not yet…_

She broke into a run, trying to let the exercise take over her mind and make her forget about everything. After a while she slowed down, trying to clear all thoughts from her head.

Several minutes later she found herself on anot unfamiliar street. She backtracked to the corner and look up at the street sign, which read: _Baker Street_. Home of that miserable detective, the one who had led her family to believe that she was dead! She wanted to hurt him, to cause him as much pain as he had caused her…

She paused. Professor Ratigan had often complained of him in her presence. They were enemies. Basil was brilliant, just like Ratigan. Surely he could protect her or tell her what to do?

She slowly walked by the detective's flat. There were no signs of life, but perhaps the someone was home anyway. Should she…?

She turned away, walking past the flat with a quick, determined step. No. He was not brilliant. He had made a mistake on one case. _Her _case. Why should she satisfy his ego by coming to him? What had he ever done for her?

Rose sighed as left Baker Street, feeling physically and mentally strained.

She decided that there were too many mice on the streets for her to think clearly. She went into a church, and then slipped through a side door to the gated cemetery in the back. It was a warm summer day, and the dead did not bother anyone. She took off her cloak and strolled along the tombstones, taking deep breaths of air and trying to relax and come up with some sort of plan.

She headed to a shaded corner of the cemetery and sat down next to a simple stone cross with the inscription: _Gregory Rogers, Aug. 1873- Apr. 1896._

"Hi Greg. How're things?"

Silence.

Rose sighed and leaned against the headstone. "Listen Greg, I know you tried to help me. I saw you once, but it was good. It was home. And then…" she sighed again. "It should have never happened.

"Greg, I'm stuck. Professor Ratigan has been good to me. Really good to me. But he's such a bad man. He kills people, takes their money, gets himself rich. See this necklace?" She held up the case. "I don't know how he got it. I don't want to know. He gave it to me. What does it mean? What does any of this mean?

"I once thought people were good. In Exeter they were. Oh, if only we could go back to when we were children! There were no Giovannis, no Millies, no Fidgets or Kilburns or Professors or anyone of the sort! Just Fran and Gwen and Jessica and you and Fred and Alonzo and Peter and Victoria and I… all of us, playing games, believing in everything, not knowing anything at all…"

She closed her eyes, imagining it all. "All those dreams about the future that we had…" she started to get choked up thinking about it. Francis's dreams to be a prima ballerina, Gwen's to write a novel, Jessi's to be an artist, hers to be a missionary, Greg's to be a lawyer… "Your dream never was. And mine will never be. Dreams are dead, leaving us only with reality, and the cold, hard fact that none of us can ever be happy."

She could feel the tears running down her cheeks, the sob rising from her throat. She heard footsteps approaching, managed to swallow the sob before it came out, rose to her feet, and pretended to be nonchalantly strolling among the graves.

_TapTHUD. TapTHUD. TapTHUD._

She felt shivers go down her spine. She pretended to read one of the inscriptions on one of the tombstones nearby trying to get a sideways look at the person on the path.

She saw first the peg leg, and then the dirty sweater and the crippled wing. So Ratigan had sent Fidget to spy on her and make sure that she did not rat them out to the police! Rose felt as if her heart was in her throat. She decided to show Ratigan that she was no fool.

She turned to the bat. "Good afternoon, Fidget."

The bat jumped, and then shot her a panicked look that he tried his hardest to hide. "Go-good da-da-day, Miz Rose."

"What are you doing here?" she asked sweetly.

"Well, I… I wuz just… erm, just taking a stroll. Yeah!"

"In a graveyard?"

"What're you doin' here?" he shot back, looking angry.

"I was visiting my friend's grave," Rose said, going back to Greg's tombstone. "Gregory Rogers died in a carriage accident a few months ago. We grew up together."

Fidget hobbled over to the grave and peered at it. "Oh."

Rose put her hands behind her back, waiting for him to go away. But he did not seem eager to go away. "So how did last night's plan go?" Rose asked.

"Don't talk of last night!" Fidget barked, stomping away, leaving a baffled girl behind him.

She put her cloak back on and headed out of the graveyard in a different direction, not sure what to make of Ratigan's motives for sending such an uptight creature after her.

* * *

When Rose got back to the pub, Scarlet practically threw herself on the girl.

"Rose! Yer alright!" she exclaimed, circling the girl's body with her arms in a tight embrace.

"Oh course! Why wouldn't I be all right?" Rose asked, too stunned to feel emotion.

"Ye weren't in yer room last night."

Rose blushed. Scarlet sometimes came to check on her in her room.

"Where were ye?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "The Boss made me stay in a prison cell."

Scarlet's jaw dropped. "Why? What'd ye do?"

Rose looked around her. No one appeared to be listening. She whispered all that had happened to Scarlet since yesterday. The woman slowly turned pale.

"Go to the police."

"I can't! He sent Fidget to follow me this afternoon, just to make sure I didn't do any such thing!"

Scarlet sighed. "Yer stuck now. I told ye to go back 'ome, but would ye lissen to me? No-o, you knew what was best, didn't ye?"

Rose felt angry and hurt. "Yes, I know all of that. Haven't I admitted it so many times before?"

Scarlet squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. I just hate to see this 'appen to a nice girl like yerself. Please, take care of yerself."

"I will, Miss Scarlet. I will."

But as Rose lay in bed later that night, trying to get some sleep, she felt as if a part of her was missing, as if that part of her that had had morals and goodness had just been consumed by some dark, evil menace. She once more thought of the cold, dark waters by The Rat Trap, and how welcoming they would be to her, a despicable criminal and enemy of the Empire…

* * *

RAEB: Meg! Your main character is-

Luke: Depressed. And suicidal. Why?

Meg: Yeah, I know. Erm, I tried thinking of how I would react in such a situation… I think going against my morals would make me hate myself enough to… consider it?

Luke: This story is rated-

Meg: PG-13! Now get OVER IT!

Luke: Sheesh, you're meaner than Ratigan!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

* * *

Meg: I just got a hold of an old book by National Geographic called _Discovering Britain and Ireland._ It gives me a whole entire map of the streets and important sites of London, so now I can try to place characters in different places and know what the heck I'm talking about!

Emma: How old is the book?

Meg: About twenty years.

JWJ: _(skeptical) _Don't you need a book that was written in the late 1800s?

Meg: No.

JWJ: But your information could be inaccurate!

Meg: Since when do you care?

JWJ: Some author you are, screwing up your own information!

* * *

Rose returned to work the next morning expecting her situation in Ratigan's lair to have considerably changed. She was not sure exactly what she was expecting, but she knew that it would be something different.

She was wrong. She hardly saw Ratigan at all, and when she did see him, he did not acknowledge her presence, as was his custom.

The second day, Ratigan did speak with her, demanding to know why she was not wearing the locket he had given her. She had not worn the locket as a matter of principle; she felt that she did not deserve such a trinket for helping to destroy forty lives. But explaining this principle to Ratigan was a different matter. He listened attentively, but when she had finished explaining her views he told her that she was going to get a beating she would not forget unless she wore that locket. Needless to say, she went back up to her flat, returning some time later with the locket around her neck.

Despite that outbreak, Ratigan treated her no differently than he had before. Rose went about her work as before, showing no outward change as well. Inside, however, she felt both overjoyed and disappointed. Perhaps he had no more diabolical plans in store for her. There was also the possibility that he thought her useless, an idea that rubbed her pride the wrong way.

Everything normal once again, Rose began to wonder if all that had happened were not just some dream she had had. But then she would remember the locket. No. No dream. No more fantasies about leaping into the dark waters of the Thames.

Perhaps it was better this way.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since Rose had helped Ratigan write the letters. Drunken singing wafted up from the pub downstairs as she prepared for bed. She hummed along, thanking God that she no longer worked in the pub.

Rose blew out her candle and crawled into bed. She leaned against the wall, staring at the foggy night outside. It was chilly for a mid-July evening. She wrapped her blanket around her, thinking of poor Scarlet, out there on the streets, looking for customers.

The stairs creaked as someone ascended them. It was strange how much noise there was around her. In her home in Exeter, there had hardly ever been any noise after ten o'clock, but here she was lucky if they quieted down by midnight.

There was a loud banging on her door that caused her to jump. Grabbing a robe and wrapping it around herself, she called out, "Who is it?"

"It-it's Fidget, Miz Rose."

Rose lit her candle. "What do you want, Fidget?"

"Can I come in?" She heard him violently jiggle the doorknob.

"No."

"I go-got a request from the Professor."

Rose raised an eyebrow. He had dared call him 'the Professor' above the sewers?

Rose unbolted the door and cracked it open an inch. "What does he want?" she hissed.

The bat looked slightly dazed. "He wants you to come with me. You got somethin' black to wear?"

"Where does he want me to go?"

"He didn't say."

"Fidget, it's a little late. I just got into bed."

"He told me that I wasn't supposed to take any sass from you, Miz. He says, "Get the girl, even if you have to drag her by the hair. Don't make this harder for me, Miz Rose."

Rose felt like a ton of lead had just been dropped into her stomach. She had almost promised herself that she would not aide Ratigan again. Almost. But Rose was not a strong person, and she knew that it would be hard to refuse another request of Ratigan's.

She had run away from home to prove to her family and herself that she was strong enough to stand up for what she believed in. Now, she was too weak to stand up for her morals. She was too weak to disobey Ratigan.

Where would it lead her next?

"He wants me to wear something black?" Rose asked cautiously.

* * *

An hour later, she found herself in a dark alleyway near the Houses of Parliament. She wrapped her cloak around her, feeling the chill of the night. She was wearing an old, ragged black dress, the only one Giovanni had left her when he had returned her carpetbag so long ago. Only an hour before she had pitied Scarlet for working on this inclement night!

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Take a walk with me," she heard the Professor say in a low voice. She said nothing, and only allowed him to guide her with his gloved hand in the direction of his choice.

They walked past Parliament to the end of the street. Taking a left turn, they continued down the perpendicular street until they reached a solitary corner illuminated by one streetlight, where Whitehall and Birdcage Walk joined.

"A constable will be here in a few minutes. You are going to distract him while we get our job done. Understand?"

"How am I supposed to distract him?" she asked softly.

Ratigan lit a cigarette. "Get creative. I can't think of everything."

"But what if I botch it up?"

"Well, you better not botch it up," he growled. Rose wished he would go away. She did not want him around; he was scaring her. "Now stay here. When he comes along, approach him. Try to divert his attention as long as possible. We'll take care of the rest."

"What am I supposed to do after that?"

"Meet back at the alley. Don't fail me, Rose." With that, Ratigan disappeared into the fog.

Rose shivered. London was a noisy and busy place during the day, but at this time of night it was lonely and abandoned. She suddenly yearned for Ratigan's presence. Why had he not sent one of his own thugs to take care of distracting the constable?

Maybe he considered her one of his thugs. She frowned at the thought. She was only the cleaning woman, right?

She heard footsteps echo off the sidewalk. Someone was headed towards the corner of Whitehall and Birdcage Walk. She headed towards the footsteps.

She was almost to the streetlamp when it occurred to her that those footsteps might not belong to the constable at all. She backtracked a few paces, just out of the light of the lamp. Then she saw a uniformed man enter the light of the streetlamp. He stopped; she stopped.

"Who's there?" he called out. The voice seemed to echo in the empty, foggy street.

Rose held her breath, but she was sure he could hear her pounding heart.

"Who's there?" the constable repeated, in a firmer voice. "Come out now, and no funny business!"

Rose knew she would have to talk to him. She slowly stepped into the light of the lamp. "Please, sir, I meant no harm by it."

He regarded her. "What are you doing out so late at night, young lady?"

"I… I'm looking for… for… King's Cross, sir."

"King's Cross? That's clear on the north side. You've got quite a walk. What're doing going to King's Cross at quarter past eleven in the evening?"

"It's Mr. Hartsford, sir. He promised that he'd meet me there."

"Mr. Hartsford? Who's that?"

"Why, he's the man that told me that he found Pap and Gram and Marybeth and Lisele."

"What?"

"I left for the city some time ago, sir. Pap and Gram, they had no idea I was going. I was seeking my fortune, y'see."

"Yes, but-"

"And I thought, well, I'll make 'em proud of me, and come back with a great, big fortune, show them what a witty little thing they'd brung up, and they'd be so happy to finally see me."

"Where do they live?"

"Hertfordshire."

"So where are Pap and… well, your… relations? Wait, start back at the beginning."

Rose sighed impatiently. "You weren't even listening!"

"Of course, I was, but…. Young lady, this is preposterous! I can hardly make sense of what you're saying. What does this have to do with going to King's Cross?"

"I was _getting_ to that! Well, the city is no place for me, and I take all I earned, which weren't much, you see, and by the next ticket to Meryton. Well, I get there, and find out they're not even there anymore! No one knows where they've run off to, none of the neighbors, and… and…" Rose somehow managed to force her a few tears out.

The constable looked embarrassed. He looked around, as if people were accusing him of causing her to cry. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. "There, there, don't cry… we'll get this all straightened out. First carriage that comes by can take you to King's Cross… but… but why are you going there, so late?"

"Because Mr. Hartsford told me that he had found them!"

"Found them? Where?"

"In Edinburgh!"

"That's a long stretch from Hertfordshire. What were they doing there?"

"Because Mrs. LaPresti had taken with the yellow fever, and left this here world to meet her Creator."

"Oh, I'm so sorry…"

"We weren't sorry none. Gram hated her with a passion."

"What?" the constable exclaimed, staggering back a few steps. Rose could tell he was thoroughly baffled by now. "But… then why did they go to the funeral?"

"Who said anything about a funeral? They only went on account of the fact that Gram had a share in the will."

"But she still hated Mrs. LaPresti?"

"Of course. Who wouldn't after what Mrs. LaPresti had done to her?"

"What did Mrs. LaPresti do to her?"

"She had a weak constitution."

The constable waited for her to respond. When she failed to, he added, "And?"

"And what? That's it."

"You mean to tell me that your grandmother hated Mrs. LaPresti because she had a weak constitution?"

"Oh, yes! Gram was awfully jealous of the attentions Mrs. LaPresti got, from being so sick and pampered all the time."

"So the whole family goes for the reading of the will…"

"No'm. Just Gram."

"Where's the rest of the family?"

"In Eastbourne."

"What? Why in Eastbourne?"

"Why, where else do you go on holiday?"

"But I thought you said that all of them went to Edinburgh?"

"I said _they, they_ being Gram and Sylvester. And Sylvester doesn't count as one of the family."

"Why not?"

"Because he's only a chimney sweep."

"Why did he go with your grandmother if he's not even part of the family?"

"What, and leave Gram all alone?"

The constable looked flabbergasted. "Now look here, young lady, I have no time for this. Edinburgh, Eastbourne, wills and chimney sweeps, one can't help but lose his head!"

"Well, if you're not going to help me…" Rose sniffled a few times for effect.

"Now, now, don't cry Miss… Miss… what's your name?"

"Abby Williams."

"Abby. Yes, now, let's try to get you to-"

Rose began to cry harder.

"You don't care about all I've been through!" she wailed.

The poor constable looked so distressed. "Please, Miss Williams, of course I care! Now, please, let's try to get you some help… don't cry!"

* * *

Professor Ratigan chuckled to himself as he witnessed the scene. "I underestimated her," he said to Gerald, who was standing next to him. "They've started?"

"Yes, Professor. They're right on it!"

"Good. Stay here, and make sure she doesn't slip up."

* * *

As Big Ben struck midnight nearby, Rose wondered how much time Ratigan needed. She had been there with the constable for over half an hour. He had actually called a cab for her, but she begged him to go with her. The constable looked like he wanted to get rid of her as soon as possible.

"Come on, Miss Williams, the driver will take you to King's Cross."

"But what if Mr. Hartsford isn't there? Please, don't leave me alone!"

"I can't, I have rounds to make."

"Sir, don't leave me alone!"

And then, a sort of low rumbling, followed by a loud crack, like a gunshot, caused both of them to jump. Rose saw something like a ball of fire rise into the air, in the direction of the Houses of Parliament.

"What the…" the constable trailed off. He glanced worriedly at Rose. "Go, or walk the rest of the way!" he said, running off in the direction of the blast.

Rose dismissed the carriage and followed him, thinking only that Ratigan had, for some reason known only to his twisted mind, blown up the Houses of Parliament.

But when she got there, she only saw that a hefty hole had been created in the side of the building. Thugs were running everywhere, trying to pile as many of the items as they could on Ratigan's cat, Felicia. The constable immediately whistled for backup, attracting the attention of several of the thugs. They pulled out their pistols.

Rose looked away as they went off. She ran in the opposite direction, right into Ratigan.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?" he yelled, shoving her roughly aside and running to Fidget.

"We, ah, sort of ha-had an accident, Professor."

Rose heard the whistle again. The constable was on the ground, injured but not dead. She heard more whistles respond.

"Damn you! You muttonheads!" Ratigan barked. "Get as much as you can, and then Kilburn and Tom, take Felicia back to the sewers." Rose jumped and shrieked as one last gunshot silenced the constable's whistle. "The rest of you, back to the sewers on your own! This is what you get for ruining the original plan!"

Rose did not know what to do. She decided that it would be a good time for her to head back to The Rat Trap. She headed off in the direction of the river for about a block, only to see more policemen running in her direction. She ran back, where Felicia was just being sent off. She bumped into Fidget.

"Fidget! The police!"

"Where's the Professor?" the bat asked.

"Right here," a voice behind Rose said coldly. She turned around to find herself face-to-face with Ratigan.

"Fidget, how did that explosion happen?"

"No-no idea."

Ratigan clenched his fists and seemed to hold something like an explosion within him. Then Rose saw a change in his expression. One minute he looked like he wanted to murder someone, the next he looked as if someone had just made him King. "You know where the dirigible is?" he asked Fidget.

"Ye-yeah!"

Ratigan rubbed his hands eagerly. He began to mutter instructions to the bat, who started to laugh in his almost maniacal way.

Rose looked around her. Most of the thugs were running away from the police, who fortunately had not taken notice of the three of them standing there.

"Rose!" Ratigan said, looking up sharply, as if he was surprised to see her there. "Where's Gerald?"

"I don't know sir."

"He just left you here?"

"He was supposed to do something different?"

Ratigan swore under his breath. "No one listens to me anymore. Rose, go with Fidget."

"Yes, sir," she whispered as she followed Fidget, leaving the professor behind her.

They were halfway across the street when she heard exclamations of "Ratigan!" She glanced back. She saw Ratigan bow to none other than Basil of Baker Street

"Why, Basil! Didn't expect to see you here! Lovely evening, isn't it?"

She heard assorted shouts and gunshots, as policemen ran past them, completely unaware that they were there. Fidget led Rose away to a small alley, where they ran into another problem: more policemen.

"RUN!" Fidget called out in a hoarse voice as they broke through the group.

She felt like she was going to die from all this running. She was not used to such exercise. But she knew that she would probably end up in jail, or even on the gallows, if she stopped. She knew it in her heart. She did not want to go there, to face that. What would her family think if they ever found out? She was too young to die, and in such a horrible way! Already she could feel the rope tightening around her neck…

_Stop that!_ she told herself sternly. _Just keep running._

She was surprised to glance back and realize that they had lost the police. But when she looked ahead again, she realized that Fidget was nowhere in sight.

Rose ran ahead, to the end of the street she had been on. She looked both ways, but could see no sign of Fidget. She had no idea where he was going.

She ran to the right, knowing that it would take her closer to the river, and to The Rat Trap. She could hear the police in the distance, as they pursued her.

She had a horrible side stitch. It felt like her stomach was about to rip open. She knew she could not go on much longer.

She ran down an alleyway, and threw herself into an old sock. She scrambled to the back of the sock, trying to calm her breathing. She heard voice say, "They must've gone this way!"

She was breathing heavily, and was already starting to gag on the foot odors from the sock. She was going to be sick, she was certain of it.

She heard footsteps, voices, objects as they were moved around, calls of "Nothing here," more muffled talk. She was hot and sweaty and dizzy, and she was about to throw up her supper.

_No! Not until they leave! Oh God… I can't wait. Why now? Why now? Why-_

She vomited. There was a terrible silence. Then she heard footsteps surround the sock.

"Come out, or we'll shoot!"

* * *

Basil had followed Ratigan into Parliament, through the hallways, and up the famous clock tower known as Big Ben. He found Ratigan on the ledge on the outside, with nowhere else to go.

"Give it up Ratigan! You're trapped!"

Ratigan shook his head sadly. "The game is up, I suppose," he said dramatically. "You have finally beaten me!"

He turned and leaped off the side of the building just as some Mouseland Yard officials came onto the ledge.

Basil looked over the edge. The rat had disappeared into the fog; he was nowhere in sight.

Then he saw the dirigible slowly rise up from the fog, Fidget pedaling as Ratigan smiled smugly at the mice on the ledge.

"So sorry I could not stay longer, gentlemen, but I really must fly!" he said mockingly. "I've got to plan another marvelous surprise for you all!"

Basil stared stupidly the rat as he slowly flew out of sight, consumed with thoughts of the undeniable fact that Ratigan had outsmarted him once again.

* * *

_(Meg, Leigh, Emma, Luke, Lizz, RAEB, and JWJ approach Meg's car, where Ratigan is still listening to Disturbed. RAEB knocks on the window.)_

RAEB: Hey, you know that's angry music you're listening to. Apparently it's teenage garbage.

Ratigan: (r_olls down window) _I know. I'm trying to disturb your neighbors.

Luke: Hey, that's funny! Disturbing the neighbors while listening to Disturbed…

_(Everyone glares at him)_

Luke: _(trailing off) _Oh, never mind. None of you have a sense of humor!

Leigh: Can I have my CD back?

Ratigan: No.

Meg: More importantly, can I have my _car_ back?

Ratigan: No.

Meg: Oh, come on! What do you want with it anyway? It's twelve years old, and ready to kick the bucket! Besides, I just put a whole tank of gas in there! Gas costs an arm and a leg now, y'know!

JWJ: Stupid Iraqi war…

Emma: STUPID REPUBLICANS FOR FAVORING THEIR BIG BUSINESS BUDDIES OVER US!

JWJ: You _(censored)!_ You don't know about any of this!

Lizz: Guys, this is the author's notes for a story. Maybe we should talk about the story?

Everyone else: NO!

Lizz: Ok, how come no one listens to me?

Meg: Because you have the most sense in you. No one wants to listen to anyone with common sense.

Lizz: I resent this! I'm leaving! _(storms off)_

Meg: _(to Ratigan)_ Look, now Lizz is actually mad for once!

Ratigan: About time too. Her inability to lose her temper was grating on my nerves.

Meg: NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR NERVES!

Ratigan: Oh, really? _(starts up car, removes parking and emergency brakes)_

Luke: Should we-

_(Ratigan floors the gas.)_

Everyone: AHHHHHH!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

Meg: I apologize for the previous chapter, especially since it sounds a lot like the ending of "The Great Mouse Detective." I'm blaming it on my poor creativity level and the fact that the writers of the song "The World's Greatest Criminal Mind" mention "The Big Ben Caper." How the heck does Big Ben get involved with a crime in the first place anyway? It's a clock, for crying out loud! Please enlighten me if someone has a better idea for a "Big Ben Caper."

* * *

It was unheard of: Mouseland Yard, and even Basil of Baker Street himself, cornering a criminal, and letting him slip from their grasp! It was more amazing than the elaborate plan that they discovered afterwards, how Professor Ratigan had gained entry into the Houses of Parliament. He had broke in through a side entrance, and then again into a few, well-locked offices within the government buildings.

Parliament was closed for a month afterwards, giving no doubt that something important had, indeed, been stolen. Rose, and the rest of the mouse world, would never learn what exactly was taken on account of the vague accounts given by Mouseland Yard to the press.

But by the next morning, all the newspapers were hailing the heist as "The Big Ben Caper"—a crime of mysterious proportions, with unknown documents apparently missing, an explosion from an unknown substance in the wall, especially since the criminals had made another, less noticeable entrance into the building, and Ratigan's escape from Big Ben in his flying contraption. It was a crime that captured the hearts and minds of all London. What better way to firmly establish Professor Ratigan's reputation as the Napoleon of Crime than with this crime, this 'Caper?'

The reports were exaggerated. Some claimed that Ratigan had killed a few politicians who were trying to steal the same articles he was after, while others said that he had not one, not two, but a score of cats and dirigibles at his command! Such reports threw the city into a panic. If there were so many flying machines around, what could not prevent him from flying into other government buildings and homes undetected and murder all good, law-abiding Londoners in their beds? Some called for Mouseland Yard to immediately start construction on identical machines to fight the menace. Others claimed that the cats Ratigan had somehow tamed for his own foul purposes would show up soon with wings, and devour them all in their beds!

The Yard tried its best to cool such rumors, but to no avail. As far as anyone was concerned, the official force had failed them. It was an embarrassing and trying time for Yard officials and authorities as they tried to control the sudden assault on their efficiency as city guardians. It took many months before the city calmed down again. Neither Mouseland Yard nor Basil of Baker Street forgot the sting Ratigan's feat had caused.

* * *

Professor Ratigan strode into the throne room, Fidget hobbling close behind. The thugs cheered as soon as he entered the room. Their shouts of joy quickly trailed off, however, when they saw the expression on his face. It was more of a mock expression of joy rather than the usual, conceited triumph he showed after the successful execution of a crime.

He walked up to the throne, then turned around and faced his henchmen.

"Someone please explain to me how that explosion occurred," he said in as calm a voice as he could muster.

There was a dreadful silence as the thugs gave each other uneasy looks.

"Well?" Ratigan said with less patience than before.

Silence.

"IF SOMEONE DOESN'T EXPLAIN IT TO ME IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS, I AM GOING TO TAKE THE FIRST IDIOT WHO MAKES A WRONG MOVE AND-" Ratigan pulled out the bell.

The point was made. A dozen of the thugs began to talk and gesture at the same time.

"Chester needed a smoke, and you see-"

"We tried to follow directions, but he-"

"No one knew there was gunpowder in Parliament!"

"We did everything else all right, Professor!"

"Nothing else went wrong-"

"One mistake-"

"SILENCE!" Ratigan yelled. "One person, explain it to me!"

Kilburn stepped forward and pointed to Chester. "He wanted a smoke, sir, and seeing as we were ahead of schedule and all, he took one, and then threw the match away."

"I did not!" the mouse, a big, burly fellow, exclaimed.

"We all saw him do it," Bartholomew piped up.

"The match must of hit some crates of gunpowder," Kilburn continued.

"Chester? Is this true?" Ratigan asked, annoyed.

"No!"

"Yes!" ten other voices chorused.

"No one knew those crates were there!" Chester said defensively.

Ratigan sighed. "Thank you, Chester. You have caused me to lose important information, forced me to make a clumsy escape, and gotten a girl arrested who will most likely betray all of us to Mouseland Yard!"

The thug looked terrified. "I didn't mean to, honest!"

Ratigan rang the bell.

* * *

After fussing over Felicia, Ratigan turned back to the thugs, who were standing mournfully at the entrance to the throne room. "Gerald, I would like to speak to you," Ratigan said in an overly friendly voice.

Gerald gulped. He knew what he had done. Would Ratigan forgive him, or serve him as Felicia's dessert?

He stepped up to the rat. "Yes, Professor?"

"I gave you two simple jobs. What were they?"

"To make sure Rose didn't mess up."

"That's one. And the other one?"

"To… to get her out of there."

"Exactly! Now why didn't you take care of job number two?"

"Because… she disappeared, and the police were coming, and I couldn't look for her without risking my own hide."

Ratigan laughed dangerously. "Gerald, Rose is a rather impressionable girl. She listens to me, but pressure from the Yard might affect her loyalty to me. She doesn't know what's good for her yet. But you do, don't you?"

"Ye-yes…"

"Look at this from my point of view. What is more important: keeping a girl who doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut out of trouble, or keeping someone who knows how to shut up out of that same trouble?"

"The girl, Professor…"

"Exactly!" Ratigan looked pleased in a sort of demonic way. He pulled out the bell. Felicia looked up hungrily as the other thugs around the doorway gasped.

Ratigan examined the bell in a way as if he was deciding on what color h should paint its handle. Beads of sweat broke out over Gerald's face, and Ratigan's callousness only made the suspense worse.

Finally the rat lowered the bell. "You might be lucky, Gerald. Rose might give the Yard a convincing enough story to save both her skin and yours. If she does, you are to make sure that she gets back here without leading some thickheaded official to this lair. But if that girl disappoints me in any way, you are to alert me of anyone approaching The Rat Trap who shouldn't be. After you have done that, you are going to kill Rose. Fail to fulfill any of these orders, and…" Ratigan gestured with the bell towards Felicia. The obese cat was practically drooling. "You'll be joining Chester."

Gerald gulped again. "Right, Professor. I won't let you down."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Inspector Daniels said with impatience. "You're homeless, you've been living out on the streets for months, and you were _living _in that sock before my men came across you?"

Rose nodded, too weary to give a verbal answer. She felt nauseous again.

"Answer me, Miss Williams."

Even though the constable she had distracted was dead, she decided to use "Abigail Williams" as an alias anyway. She could not reveal her real name to them; not when it could possibly be traced back to The Rat Trap and Ratigan's hideout.

She made the decision within the first minute of interrogation by the police to remain loyal to Ratigan, even if it meant lying to the police or giving up her values. She tried to find a reason for her loyalty. Perhaps it came from his threats on her life if she ever betrayed him, although she felt that the answer was not as simple as that. It was true that she was afraid of him, but it came from his presence, from his power over her, his ability to make her do things she would have never even considered before, not a fear of him when he was not there.

"Yes, sir. That sock has been my home for a few nights now. I have nowhere else to go." She was now glad that she was wearing her ragged black dress; it made her look more impoverished than she could have planned.

"Nowhere?" The Inspector raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you vomit?"

"Because I'm not in the best of health!" Rose said sharply back. She had been questioned for over an hour. Now they were at the point of repeating their questions. "You don't know what it's like, being out in the streets all the time, worried that a cat is going to attack you, or a human step on you, or that you'll be attacked in the night by tramps like those who you are looking for right now! It does something to the nerves, to one's health. Experience what I have been through, and then come back and tell me that I shouldn't have been sick!" This statement was said with such conviction that Rose surprised even herself.

The Inspector looked slightly embarrassed, but he was trying his hardest not to show it. "Well, then why didn't you go to a shelter?"

Rose raised an eyebrow. "There are shelters in London? I've never seen one."

"I know there's one run by a Methodist church in Whitechapel that only accepts women and children… you have to get there early, before they run out of room."

"I'll have to go there," Rose said quietly. She wished that she had known about this shelter over four months ago.

"So you deny any involvement in the incident that occurred at the Houses of Parliament earlier tonight?"

"I don't even know what you are talking about! I was blocks away from Parliament! What happened?"

The Inspector sighed.

Another man came into the room. "Inspector Daniels, Mr. Basil would like to speak with you."

"In a minute." Daniels turned back to Rose. "Miss Williams, we're going to have to detain you for the night."

"Why? What did I do?" Rose asked, a question she had often repeated in the course of this interrogation.

"Don't worry about that. You'll have a place to sleep for the night, at least."

"But… but I want to know what I did!"

"You're not in any trouble. This is only a matter of procedure."

Rose gave up. She did not want to make too much of a fuss; it might look too suspicious.

She was taken down a long hallway filled with cells while prisoners yelled obscene comments directed at her. She ignored them; it was no different from a busy night at The Rat Trap, except that these mice directed their comments solely at her rather than disbursing them. The guard put her in a cell at the end of the hallway and, after pointing out the whereabouts of everything within the small cell, he locked the door behind him.

She sat down on the cot and leaned against the wall. It was somewhere around two in the morning. It was so strange; only four hours ago she had been in bed at her own flat, and now here she was in jail.

Now that she had no one to answer to, her nerves failed her. She lay down on the bed and wrapped the blanket around her in a poor attempt to get rid of the empty feeling that had been growth in her stomach all night. Why had Fidget left her? Was Ratigan angry with her? Did the Yard know more about her than she was aware? Were they onto her? If she ever got out of here, would Ratigan kill her?

She clamped her eyes tight, only wanting to vanish, to feel nothing, to be nothing.

_Save yourself, turn them all in! You know it's wrong._

_I can't!_

_Yes! You must!_

_No! I can't betray him, not after all those threats!_

_It's not the threats that are holding you back. It's the attention._

_Attention?_

_You know that he wouldn't even look twice at you unless he thought you useful. You want to feel wanted, needed. That's why you went tonight. You like the attention he gives you when you obey his orders._

_What? That's ridiculous! I am not like that! I didn't even want to help him!_

_Are you sure of that?_

There are times when the mind plays tricks on you. You think you're innocent, but then something tells you that you are guilty. At first you brush the thought aside. But if it is persistent enough, it will keep nagging at the corner of your mind until you have finally convinced yourself that you are guilty as sin.

Of course, this does not happen to everyone or all the time for that matter. But there are some people who blame themselves for everything, from someone else's failure to make it to the theater on time to someone else losing their wallet to even another person's death. It is called a guilt-complex.

Rose had a guilt-complex. She had blamed herself for the murder of those men on The Scottsdale, because she had assisted in it. She also blamed herself for those other crimes plotted in Ratigan's throne room, the ones she had been aware of, because she had failed to stop them. She blamed herself for Elaine McGeady's attempt at strangling Jessica, only because she had not been there to prevent it. If Gerald or any of the other thugs had been arrested instead of her, she would have blamed herself. Even though she did not do what Ratigan told her to do for attention, she began to believe that to be the real motive behind her helping him out. Even as she lay there, she began to wonder if she had somehow caused the explosion that had brought the untimely arrival of the police, before the turning of a lock in her door caused her to jump up out of the cot.

A bright light filled the room; it was the guard bringing a lantern. "Here you are, Mr. Basil."

Rose froze. Basil? Basil of Baker Street?

She saw Inspector Daniels and Basil enter the room. "Sorry to disturb you, Miss Williams, but this gentleman here would like to ask you a few questions."

Rose tried to look away, but Basil had already seen her. He smiled in a… satisfied way, as if he had found something amusing?

"Miss Williams, explain to me what happened this evening," Basil said.

Maybe he did not recognize her! She cleared her throat, and began the story she had made up. She was an orphan, had been homeless for months, could not find work, ate food from the garbage or stole into humans' homes, trying to get a bite to eat. She just happened to be in that sock when she heard the police come by this evening; afraid that they were ruffians, she had burrowed further into the sock, hoping they'd pass. But she did not feel well, and had thrown up as they were passing.

Basil nodded. He began to ask questions about her family; she decided that she would lie, slightly. Her father had been a drunk and had abused her. She had no other family.

"Interesting tale, Miss McGeady," he said, grinning.

Rose stopped and stared at him. Daniels looked sharply at the detective.

"There's no need to hide anymore," Basil said.

She sighed, knowing the game was up. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

"What is this?" Daniels asked.

"My name is not Abigail Williams," Rose said reluctantly. "It's Rose McGeady."

"Rose McGeady? But you told us your name was Abigail Williams!"

Rose glanced at Basil. He looked a little… gleeful? Triumphant? She wanted to strangle him.

"I lied."

"You what?"

"I lied to you, sir."

"That's a very serious matter, young lady. Do you think this is a game?"

"No, sir."

"But why?"

Rose stared at Basil. "I ran away from home over four months ago. My mother and I got into a stupid, silly fight, and I decided I was going to be an immature little know-it-all and run away, just to show her. When I got here, however, all my money and possessions were stolen. Too ashamed to go back home, I tried to find work. I truly did. But no one would have me. I have been forced to live in the streets, barely getting by each day. I was still too proud to come back home.

"Then, one day, I met a friend of mine from Exeter, Greg Rogers, in the street. He was a law student here in London, and kept a correspondence with my older sister. He was shocked to see me, because…" Rose looked meaningfully at Basil. He looked a bit nervous. "Everyone in Exeter thought I was dead, had died in London. My family left Exeter for America, all but my mother, after Father and Mother had a falling out. This was two months ago that I learned this, sir." Basil seemed to relax.

"Ever since then, I've had no care for myself. My true family is gone; I hate my mother, and will not go back to Exeter to be with her. If you inform her that I am still alive, she'll act as sweet as sugar to you and to me until we are in together in private. Then she will rip into me and make me wish I were dead. I don't want to go through that."

No one said anything at first. Finally Daniels said, "I believe we should contact your mother."

* * *

_(Meg, Leigh, JWJ, RAEB, Luke, and Emma are sitting in a tree. Meg's car has crashed into the trunk, where it is still blasting out Disturbed.)_

RAEB: Is he gone?

JWJ: Anyone want to see?

Everyone: NO!

JWJ: You're all pathetic.

Meg: Why don't _you_ go check, O knight in shining armour?

JWJ: And almost get run over by a car again? How stupid do you think I am?

Leigh: How can he run you over? The car's already been trashed.

JWJ: Hey, if he could get a hold of a car, then he definitely could get a hold of something else, like maybe an AK-47!

Luke: Well, then sitting in a tree isn't going to protect us from that. All he has to do is aim and shoot.

Emma: _(sarcastically) _Thanks. You've all just made me feel so much better!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Meg: The authoress is slightly concerned. This story is already almost longer than any other fanfic she has already written, and it's not even halfway completed yet! So if it's getting too long, just tell me. I will either listen to you or ignore you, depending on my mood, haha.

JWJ: That was just pointless.

Meg: Just like your blonde highlights and your love of politics. Pointless.

* * *

Rose felt numb she was led into a waiting room the next morning. Elaine McGeady stood up and ran to her daughter. Rose stood still as her mother embraced her, twelve hours after she had been put in the cell.

"Rose! Rose! Oh, we thought you were dead!" Elaine cried. Rose patted her back, feeling even emptier inside. Her mother had a public face and a private face. The girl could tell that her mother's public face was in full swing.

After much crying on her mother's part, Daniels sat them down and told Rose that she was no longer a suspect, that they were letting her go home with her mother to start her life anew.

"A suspect? A suspect in what?" Elaine asked anxiously.

Daniels sighed. "Well, it's a long story ma'am."

He explained the Big Ben Caper to Elaine, who immediately turned on her daughter and said, "You weren't a part of this, were you?" in an accusing manner.

Rose shook her head. "No, Mother."

"Because if you've been doing something you shouldn't have been doing…"

Rose wanted to tell her how she had helped Ratigan just to spite her, but she held her tongue.

"No, she was far away from the scene of the crime," Daniels reassured her.

"Oh, good. Please Inspector, could I take my daughter home now?"

"Certainly," Daniels said. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Miss McGeady."

"It's all right," Elaine cut in for Rose. Her daughter blushed. "Come, Rose."

"Goodbye, ma'am."

Rose wondered what had happened to Basil. He had disappeared shortly after she revealed her true identity, and she had not seen him since.

Unfortunately she was now stuck with her mother! Rose's fingers rose to the locket around her neck. Her mother saw the gesture, but did not say anything until they got into a carriage.

She glared at her. "Well, I suppose all that that cracked detective told us was a lie. I told your father to use the police, but did he listen? No. And look at you!"

"Mother?"

"Your dress is in rags! This is what I have to deal with, bailing my dishonorable daughter from jail! Where's that bag of things you packed, Rose? Huh? Tell me!"

"I don't have it anymore!" Rose said defensively, ready to cry.

"Why is that?"

Rose did not answer.

"Answer me!"

Rose was reminded of Ratigan, except that Ratigan was not an insane woman who yelled at others because she hated her own life.

"I don't have it anymore because it was stolen."

"And that necklace? What does that say?"

Rose put her hand protectively around it, but Elaine leaned over and moved her daughter's hand. "What's the 'R' stand for? Did you buy this?"

Rose felt like the police were interrogating her again. "No. I've had it for years. I think Father bought it for me, when I was younger."

"I've never seen it before. It looks too expensive for his tastes. Oh, your father! Thanks to you, Rose, they've all left! They all blamed me for your selfish, selfish act! And your father, he is so selfish! He took your sisters and left! It's all your fault. If you hadn't run away, they would have never left! See what trouble you've caused? They could have _died_ on that ship crossing the ocean, and all because of you!"

I think I should mention that part of the reason for Rose's strong guilt-complex was on account of her mother making her feel like she was to blame for so many events that were beyond her own control.

"Maybe they left because you're insane," Rose blurted out.

Elaine gasped dramatically. She looked like someone had shot her.

"I have never _heard_ such a daughter! No daughter has ever been as disrespectful as you have been! And after I fed you and clothed you and gave you a good education and cooked and cleaned for you and loved you and did everything I could for you! After I have been a mother for you! Even after I bailed you out of jail!"

"You didn't bail me out. They didn't make you pay a shilling to let me go."

"I came here and _got you_. That's _bailing _you out."

Her mother was always making up untrue definitions for words to make points.

Rose folded her arms. "Then why did you come and get me?"

"Because, unlike you, I am a loving, unselfish person. I actually care about my family."

Rose knew why her mother had gotten her. She was too miserable alone, with no one to pick on when she was in a bad mood and no one to support her. She wanted Rose begging to be accepted back into her good graces.

The carriage stopped at Victoria Station.

"We will continue this discussion later!" Elaine hissed as they got out of the carriage. "Our train leaves in a half-hour," she said in her public voice, the voice that seemed to turn on by the flip of a switch.

They spent the next fifteen minutes looking for the right platform. Rose stood numbly by her mother as she bought the tickets. She closed her eyes, and fingered the locket. Home. She would soon be in Exeter. Home…

But was it home? Could it ever be a home again, with her father and sisters gone? Could she mend her relationship with her mother ever again?

She wanted to go home…

"Don't stand there. We've got to catch our train," Elaine said impatiently.

Rose followed her to the train, feeling like she was losing a part of herself, like some inner part of her was slowly being poisoned. She feared the poison was going to grow and consume her very soul. It had already started to, here in London, while working for Ratigan. But she was certain that leaving London for a home that was not really a home would flood her system with it. She dreaded this thing, this poison, that she knew would take hold. It was already starting to rise within her.

Elaine made Rose go ahead of her to board the train. Suddenly Rose stopped in her tracks.

"I'm not going with you," she blatantly stated.

Elaine pushed her a little. "Don't start with me," she hissed. "I've already had enough trouble from you. Get on the train."

Rose hesitated; she almost weakened. She thought of how she ahd lied to the police; surely resisting her mother could not be more difficult. "No! I am not going with you! You don't want me, and I really don't want to have to deal with-"

"Rose!" Elaine grabbed her arm and gripped it. "Come on!" she almost snarled, digging her nails into her daughter's arm. "Don't make a scene!"

"You're _hurting _me!"

"I'll hurt you more if you cause any more trouble!"

The poison surged through her veins. With her free hand she went for her mother's neck, smacking her head against the train. Elaine screamed and let go of her arm. Rose immediately let go of her mother's neck, shocked at what she had just done.

Her mother dramatically gasped for breath as she rubbed the spot where her head had hit the train. People were staring at them.

"You… you tried to bash my head in!"

"I was trying to get you to stop hurting my arm!"

"How… how dare you!"

A few men stepped forward and began to ask what was wrong.

Elaine burst into tears. "You have anger management problems! I knew it! You're so selfish, so hateful, so self-absorbed-"

Rose could not believe her mother's dramatics. "Then I guess you don't need me around. Goodbye, Mother."

Rose turned around and fled.

She ran, trying to block her mother's pitiful shouts out of her mind. But already she was sobbing. She gasped for breath and sobbed and knew she looked so stupid, but she did not care. All she wanted was a familiar face, a friendly face…

Someone grabbed her arm, jerking her back. Rose turned around and saw Gerald.

"Gerald!" she spit out, trying to clear her throat and wipe her eyes. "What… what are you doing here?"

"What just happened back there? Who was that woman?" he asked.

"My mother."

"The Yard let you go?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I swear I didn't betray any of you! They had nothing against me, telegrammed my mother, got her to come get me. I told them I was homeless. I didn't betray him, Gerald!"

"So I've heard. Come with me; we're going back to the lair."

Rose could have cried out for joy. Someone here, just when she needed him! She could tell that Gerald was worried about something, however, so she said no more as he led her through the crowd.

* * *

After a long and confusing trip through the sewers, Rose finally found herself back at the lair. She was worn and weary, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

Gerald gently led her towards the throne room. "The Professor wants to know about you being back and all."

Rose nodded, unwilling but uncomplaining.

She walked into the throne room, to be met with a random chorus of "CONGRATULATIONS!" and "SURPRISE!" as all of Ratigan's thugs jumped out from behind furniture, loot, curtains, and doorways.

Rose sort of gaped in shock. She glanced behind her, thinking that perhaps they had made a mistake, and were cheering for someone else.

A few of them laughed at her behavior.

She turned back around. They were all clapping for her, patting her on the back, propelling her forward, and she had no idea why.

And then Ratigan was at her side, taking her arm and walking her up to the throne. He made her stand next to the throne, and then turned to the thugs, who were already filling up on beer and champagne. He cleared his throat; the talking and laughing died down.

"My friends, last night's endeavor was an absolute success."

There were assorted cheers.

(A few thugs later reflected on Ratigan's feelings about 'last night' the night before, and wondered how he could have forgotten his preliminary reaction so quickly. I am no expert, but I believe that the morning newspapers, filled with headlines like, AN CRIME OF UNSPEAKABLE PROPRTIONS, CRIME OF THE CENTURY, BRITAIN IN PERIL, had something to do with it.)

"And why was it a success?"

"Because you planned it!" someone shouted out.

Ratigan gave a short laugh. "Yes, that usually is the case, isn't it?" he said with a meaningful chuckle.

A few thugs laughed as well.

"And despite the fact that _several_ of you failed to follow orders, our success was made complete by Miss McGeady's aide." Ratigan handed her a glass of champagne. He raised his own glass to her. "To our Rose among you pathetic thorns."

The thugs raised their glasses, some exclaiming, "To Rose!", others "To drinks!", some others "To thorns!", and even one fellow shouted out, "To Marlene!"

Ratigan sighed, exasperated. "Well, you get the general idea," he said a bit apologetically to her. He took a sip.

She had never tasted champagne before and had no urge to start. The party atmosphere in the throne room, however, convinced her that now was not the time to be picky. She took a small sip. It was bubbly, and actually burned in her mouth. She felt like she was going to be sick again.

She quickly set down her glass and tried to take deep breaths. "How… how did you know that I didn't betray you?" Rose asked Ratigan as the thugs let themselves go with the liquor.

"I have connections everywhere, Rose. I knew at around four this morning that Miss Abigail Williams had changed her identity back to Miss Rose McGeady while not changing her pitiful story. Imagine, _having to live in a sock_!" Ratigan said the last part in a mocking, high-pitched voice. He laughed. "While I can't say that I would have personally picked such a story, it was believable enough."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For the story. I'll try to think of a better one next time."

Ratigan shrugged and then sat down on the throne. "Go ahead if it will ease your mind. I am personally counting on it not happening again. The Yard already has a file on you, and I heard that Basil even paid you a little visit."

"He did, sir."

"What did you think of him?"

Rose looked at her feet. "I hate him, sir."

Ratigan laughed again. "Oh, really? Is it because of his wonderful reputation down here?"

She shook her head. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I formed my opinion of him without anyone else's help."

"What did you form your opinion of him on?" he asked, suddenly looking very interested.

Rose wished that he would offer her a seat; she was getting tired of standing up here, and was even more embarrassed to be in her ragged dress in front of everyone.

"On my own experiences," she said.

When she did not go on, Ratigan asked her to specify. So she explained to him why she had run away, and all that had happened to her that he was not aware of. She explained to him about her mother, about Basil's mistake, about Greg's death, and when he asked, about her time in jail and what happened there, including Basil's short meeting with her and her mother's arrival and their departure at the train station.

By this time she felt like she could barely stand up for another five minutes. Ratigan was looking at her thoughtfully.

"Well, that's quite a story," he said.

Rose nodded, trying to read his reaction, to see if he cared or not. But his face was expressionless.

"So Basil already knew who you were?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hm." He was silent.

"I… I didn't know you, sir, when I went to see him that one time."

Ratigan seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Rose felt hot, lightheaded, and dizzy. She tottered a bit, and grabbed on the throne to steady herself. She could tell that she was going to faint soon, but she was almost afraid to sit down.

Her vision became hazy. After while, she could not see at all. She reached out blindly, hoping to grasp something, anything! She could not even tell whether she was standing up anymore.

Suddenly she felt herself falling, falling into nothingness… she felt something, a pair of hands, someone sitting her down, someone speaking to her…

"Rose! Can you hear me? Rose!"

Someone was airing her, dabbing her neck with a wet cloth, and she was slowly revived. Her vision came back to her in a rush of color and detail and light. She was back in the throne room, sitting on the throne. Gerald was quickly waving a fan back and forth towards her face.

"She's pale," Gerald was saying to Ratigan. Fidget also stood nearby. The other thugs, many of them already drunk, were not even paying attention to them.

"Sorry, sir," Rose said weakly. "I'm sorry…"

Ratigan burst out laughing. "Look at her! She almost split her head open on my throne, and here she is, apologizing!"

Rose closed her eyes. She felt strong hands dab at her forehead with the cool, wet cloth. She opened her eyes again. Ratigan lifted her head and put the cloth behind her neck. That, and the cool air coming from the fan Gerald was rapidly waving in her face, felt so good.

"I think she's had enough of this little fête," Ratigan said. "Rose, you're staying down here for a few days. That little incident with your mother at Victoria Station might convince Basil to reconsider you as a suspect of the Caper." Rose did not see how what happened at Victoria Station could make her look suspicious, but she did not argue the point. She did not want to go up to the surface for a long time.

"Yes, sir," she said more to herself than to him. "I'll stay here."

_For as long as I am wanted and needed.

* * *

_Meg: We've run into another problem.

Emma: What?

Meg: Erm… This branch we're sitting on is breaking.

_(Meg and Emma fall off the branch and down onto the roof of the car.)_

Meg & Emma: OUCH!

Emma: I think I broke my back.

Meg: Oh, _(censored)._

JWJ: You just swore! The author just swore! Man, some role model you are!

Meg: _(angrily) _Hey, do you want to help make sure Emma didn't snap her spinal cord!

Emma: _(sitting up slowly)_ I think I'm ok.

Luke: Yeah, I think we better go.

Meg: And help us?

Luke: And help ourselves, because that very huge rat is walking down the street in this direction.

_(Everyone runs away)_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

Meg: _(in Dr. Weird voice)_ Gentlemen, behold!

Emma: And Ladies.

Meg: _(still in Dr. Weird voice) _Shut up, Steve! _(clears voice) _Gentlemen, behold! The fifteenth chapter!

RAEB: Yep, someone's definitely been watching too much Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

Leigh: Blame it on weekly movie nights, whoever brought the DVD set, and the fact that all the guys had to watch all the little Dr. Weird excerpts at the beginning of each episode.

Meg: _(still in Dr. Weird voice) _Quiet! Now someone post the next chapter!

Lizz: _(sigh) _I guess I'll do it… again.

* * *

Ratigan had one of the better-kept cells prepared for Rose to stay in while she remained in the sewers. Rose did not mind. She knew there were nicer rooms in the lair, but they were too big and too frivolous for her tastes. Besides, the cell was never locked.

She went about her work as usual, cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry and her other chores. She had no contact with the outside world, but that was all right by her standards. She did not have a world beyond the lair or The Rat Trap anymore. The only people she ever talked to above the surface were Millie, Miss Kitty, and Scarlet, since Giovanni hated her with a passion and the other barmaids did not even bother with her. Nothing new to expect from there.

It was all the same, but something about her situation had definitely changed. She began to notice that the thugs were coming to her for favors… to mend a torn jacket, darn a sock; and they talked to her as she did it about their drunken escapades, their pettier crimes, or arguments they had had with their wives or girlfriends. Or they would greet her when they came into the throne room, a change from just ignoring her. She was beginning to feel like she was part of a very big family; perhaps not a member, but a needed part of it, like a close family servant.

The Professor no longer ignored her either. He had his moments, especially when he was deep in thought about a crime or a problem that required an intelligent solution or on the verge of an idea. But each morning when she served him his breakfast he made her sit down and listen to the latest article on the Big Ben Caper, elaborating on every detail and the poor progress the police were making on the case. Rose was amused by his child-like excitement, laughing and carrying on about the embarrassment the authorities were suffering because of his success.

"It goes to show you, Rose," Ratigan said one morning, after laying down the newspaper, "that some genius cannot be matched."

Rose hated to encourage egotism, but she nodded in agreement anyway.

"It was a very good plan, sir."

"It wasn't the plan, my dear. It was the getaway, the lack of evidence or clues."

Rose traced the pattern in the tablecloth with her finger. "Sir? Can I ask a question?"

"Certainly."

"Why did you decide to get into crime in the first place?"

Ratigan seemed surprised. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious."

"Let me ask you a question. Why do you think I got into crime?"

Rose gave him a confused look. "I don't know."

"Take a guess."

Rose frowned. She hated when others reversed a question on her.

"Because you wanted to get rich?"

"No. It was a benefit, not a reason. Try again."

"I don't know, sir."

"Try."

"I don't know!" Rose said a little sharply.

Ratigan chuckled. "I beg your pardon," he said a little teasingly.

She felt her face grow red with anger. She got up to clear away the breakfast dishes.

"Answer me this, Rose. Why did you come back?" Ratigan asked.

Rose looked at him. "What?"

"Why did you come back here with Gerald after Mouseland Yard let you go?"

Rose paused. "Because I made a promise to you, sir. That I wouldn't leave."

"Do you want to leave?"

She tried to read his expression, but once again failed to detect what he meant by his words.

"Tell me the truth. I won't be offended," he added, seeing her hesitation.

"No, sir. I don't want to leave… not unless you make me."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," he said with a friendly smile.

Rose gave him a small smile. She continued to clear the dishes.

"Sit down. I'm not done talking to you."

She quickly put everything down and sat back down.

"I have business with a man by the name of Frederick Moss that I need to close in a week. He thinks I am a wealthy man by the name of David Snyder, and has invited me to his vacation home in Whitby. I need you to come with me."

"Why, sir?"

"Because he thinks I am married. You would play the part of my wife."

Rose was startled. "Your wife?"

"For a day or two."

"Why me? I'm sure there's someone else you know who's better qualified-"

"Yes, there are about a dozen women I know who are better qualified," he stated. "Unfortunately, most of them are either already married and wouldn't dream of leaving their husbands for this little farce or already move in the same social circles as Moss and his wife do. Besides, I have to break you in somehow."

Rose was silent. She had no idea what to think. She felt it would be wrong to even consider it. But then again… why had Ratigan picked her? Did he think she had the skill and ability to do it?

"If you want me to, I will try to help you out, sir."

"I want a straight yes or no answer, none of this 'I'll try' garbage," Ratigan snapped.

"Oh. Yes, sir. I'll help you," Rose said quickly.

"Marvelous. Now here's what you should know…"

* * *

The next few days were a blur as they prepared for Ratigan's newest plan. He had explained the details of his purposes for conducting business with this man, but Rose still did not quite understand it, or how Ratigan was going to get away with it. But she did educate herself in what she was supposed to know as David Snyder's wife, in his business, his personality, and his live. He was born in Cornwall in 1861, owned mines in South Africa, had married Jane Rochester four years ago...

Rose thought the name was peculiar. Jane Rochester. Jane was the name of the main character in _Jane Eyre_, and Rochester was the last name of the man who Jane was in love with. It was a rather odd, and in Rose's opinion, obviously fake name, and she wondered why he had picked such a name.

"Sir," she said one day, "you've told Mr. Moss that my maiden name was Jane Rochester?"

Ratigan gave her a peculiar look. "Yes. I already told you that."

"Well… did you know that it's the name of Jane Eyre at the end of that book? After she marries Mr. Rochester?"

"Yes. I borrowed the name from that novel."

"Oh." She cast down her eyes, feeling even more confused.

Ratigan pulled out a cigarette. "What's the problem, Rose?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Rose, I am not going to play guessing games with you. Tell me what the problem is."

"Well… isn't Jane Rochester an obviously false alias? Won't they guess that you took it from that book?"

A small smile was tugging at the corners of Ratigan's mouth. "No."

"Oh." Rose frowned, unsatisfied with that answer.

"Rose, what makes you so sure that everyone has read that novel and will make the connection between it and your alias?" Ratigan asked in response to her frown.

"I don't know."

"Then don't worry about it. I know what I'm doing."

The next day she was introduced to two childhood friends of Ratigan's who were visiting in London, one Rachel Dunlap and her sister, Amy Germaine. Rachel was a friendly, melodramatic woman in her early thirties with dark hair and a tendency to fall into a mindset that the world revolved around her. Rose took an immediate liking to her. Amy was in her twenties, quiet, unattractive, and did not speak unless spoken to. Rose found her dull.

Rose found out that they had been recruited in teaching her how to behave in society. Rachel usually posed questions and made her answer them as if she were really Jane Rochester Snyder, trying to trap her into making a mistake. Even though Rose felt like she was always making a mistake and that she would not be able to handle this, she actually did better than she gave herself credit for… until it came to talk about David Snyder.

"Darling, you've got to elaborate more on James' character," Rachel said to her after one of the conversations. "It looks like you don't even know your husband at all."

"I try, but…" Rose grimaced. "I really don't know Professor Ratigan at all. I mean, it's easy to make Jane Snyder come to life, because I know who I am, and can make things up about myself better than about someone else. That's why it's so hard to know who David Snyder is, because I don't know the Professor and I really can't get a clear idea what sort of man he would be portraying."

"I think you're trying too hard," Rachel said, laughing. "James has told you about his character, right?"

"Well, technical things, like what he does, and maybe one of two general interests."

"That's really all you need to focus on. These women aren't going to care what his philosophy on life is, or whether he prefers going on long walks to playing the harp."

"Oh." Rose frowned. She had sort of hoped that Rachel would tell her more about Ratigan's life and what kind of a man he was outside his images as a mathematical genius and a criminal mastermind.

* * *

Later, as Rose was packing her bags of newly-bought clothes for the trip to Derbyshire, Amy came into her cell.

"He likes myths," she said in response to Rose's greeting.

Rose gave her an odd look. "I beg your pardon?"

"James. When we were younger… I was seven, Rachel was eleven…" Amy sighed, lost in her reminiscing. "At night, he'd sneak over to our house, and we'd climb out the window and go up to the top of this one hill, and he'd tell us stories… myths. He loved Greek myths. I remember one, of how Hades kidnaps Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of grain and harvest. Demeter is so distraught that she stops working, and the earth and all the plants dry up. Zeus sends Hermes to find Persephone. Meanwhile, Persephone has eaten six pomegranate seeds. Eating anything in the underworld means that you have to stay down there forever. But Demeter is so upset when she hears this, she goes to Zeus, and she and Hades work out a compromise; Persephone must be queen of the underworld for six months, because of the six seeds she ate. In those six months, the world dies, creating fall and winter. But for six months she is allowed to come back to the surface, where she spends time with her mother. Everything grows, and that is spring and summer."

"What a nice story," Rose said, trying her hardest to imagine the Professor as a storyteller.

"James can tell them so much better than I," Amy said.

"Miss Germaine? Why are you telling me this?"

"He has such a misconception of life," Amy said dreamily. "He thinks everyone is out to get him. He's only looking for a reason to not trust anyone."

This answer only confused Rose even more.

* * *

Meg: Ok, the first meeting of the unofficial Gerard Butler Club is now in order.

RAEB: Gerard Butler Club? I thought this was the second meeting of the Lizz Mafia.

Meg: I changed my mind.

Emma: I don't want to be a member of the Gerard Butler Club!

Leigh: But he was so hot in "The Phantom of the Opera!"

Meg: Yeah! Come on, Emma! I need help getting a prom date!

Emma: And you think Gerard would go with you?

Meg: Why not?

Leigh: Mrs. Connors would kill you for that.

Lizz: Yeah, isn't she obsessed with him or something?

Meg: But she's twenty years older than him!

RAEB: You're twenty years younger than him!

Meg: So was Emmy Rossum!

Emma: But she was never dating Gerard Butler; they were working on a movie together!

Meg: Who says I can't get a date with Gerard Butler?

_(JWJ pops up out of nowhere)_

JWJ: I do.

Meg: Hey! No guys allowed!

JWJ: Oh, grow up. First of all, you're delusional. Gerard Butler doesn't want to date you. Second of all, no one cares about your prom situation!

Meg: I DO! And besides, I'm the only one here who doesn't have a date! I don't want this to turn into that whole Valentine's Day fiasco that happened last year, with me being the only one who had no date!

Lizz: Hey, I just remembered that that was Ratigan's fault.

Meg: EVERYTHING IS RATIGAN'S FAULT! I say let's get a SWAT team in here to kill Ratigan.

RAEB: Why?

Meg: 'Cause he might kill Gerard.

JWJ: The 'potential' date who doesn't even know you exist?

Meg: YES!

JWJ: Yeah. Sure. If you somehow manage to get this actor to go to prom with you, then I will pay you one hundred dollars.

Meg: DEAL!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

_(Meg, Lizz and RAEB are sitting in a palm tree on a Hawaiian resort. Meg is looking through a pair of binoculars.)_

RAEB: This is pointless.

Lizz: Can we go kayaking?

Meg: Not until we see Gerard!

RAEB: Erm… why?

Meg: So I can ask him to prom.

Lizz: Is that even legal? LWon't that be an issue, you going with a guy who's twenty years older than you?

Meg: If he's a celebrity, it probably won't be.

RAEB: Meg, look at the facts. He's famous. He's older, much older than you. He's unattainable. Go with someone else.

Meg: NO!

RAEB: Well Lizz, I tried.

_(A coconut hits RAEB, knocking her off her perch. Lizz is hit next, falling off as well. Meg does not notice.)_

Meg: My sources tell me he is here… c'mon, Gerard! Hey, maybe he'll wear his Phantom mask. That'd be so awesome!

_(A coconut hits Meg. She shrieks as she falls off the palm tree.)

* * *

_"Mr. Snyder, Mrs. Snyder, how good it is to finally meet you!" Cathy Moss greeted Rose and Ratigan as they entered the parlour in the Moss's home.

"The pleasure is all ours," Ratigan said courteously, kissing her hand. Rose nodded assent.

They were led to chairs, where two hours of small talk began. Rose could hardly stand it, and could now see why Ratigan had told her to not even talk to him on the train when she herself had tried a little small talk with him. It was pointless, stupid, boring, ordinary people talking about ordinary things that no one in the room truly cared about.

But how strange it was to see Professor Ratigan in the real world, the world beyond the sewers, the world beyond crimes. Although he was here for the sake of crime, he was polite, charming, and intriguing, and so not out-of-the-ordinary in this setting. It was anything but what the public would expect from such a plotting, conniving man.

After tea Ratigan and Rose were shown to their room to 'freshen up' for dinner.

As soon as they were within the safety of their room, Rose breathed a sigh of relief. She did not realize until then the stress headache she had incurred from the pressure to not make a mistake in front of the Mosses. She sank into a chair and closed her eyes.

"You're doing well, my dear."

Rose opened her eyes. Ratigan was writing something down in his pocketbook.

"How can you do this so easily?" Rose asked.

"I'm evil. You're not," Ratigan said as he wrote. "That's why it's so hard for you to lie to them."

Rose wanted to tell him that she felt evil as well, but she did not.

* * *

The charade continued at dinner, where Ratigan told amusing stories of his persona's experiences in his youth. Rose silently admired his skill, wondering if any of those stories were not fabrications.

Rose was put in the spotlight after dinner, when Moss and Ratigan left the room to have cigars in his study, leaving Rose and Cathy alone.

Rose found herself bombarded with questions about herself and her life in its social and material forms. She tried to answer them to the best of her ability. Although she had been somewhat prepared by Rachel Dunlap and her sister, Rose felt inadequately up to the task when Cathy started to ask rather personal questions about David Snyder.

She was complaining about her husband's unnecessarily expensive hobby of collecting crockery. But then she asked, "Doesn't your husband have any little fetishes he just _has _to satisfy?"

Rose wanted to tell her about how Ratigan was eyeing the Crown Jewels at this very moment. "Well, David has a large library-"

"Oh Jane, most men have libraries. Isn't there anything out of the ordinary about him?"

_Despite the fact that he is the Napoleon of Crime?_ "He loves Greek myths."

"Oh." Cathy sounded anything but interested. But then she started to talk about something else that was vaguely related to Greece, and the conversation steered off in another direction. Rose was relieved.

* * *

The next day Rose went with Cathy to visit some friends at one Mrs. Williams's house. The girl was surprised to find Rachel Dunlap among the women gathered there. She later learned that Rachel and her husband lived in Whitby.

At one point Rachel managed to pull her to the side. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Rose said quietly. "But Mrs. Moss asks so many questions!"

"That's what we were preparing you for, darling. How's James?"

"Good, I guess." Rose really did not know; the professor had hardly said anything to her the night before.

"Tell him that he has to see me before you go."

"All right."

* * *

Rose woke up out of a deep sleep sometime in the night, feeling strangely out of place. She turned her body toward the sleeping form of Ratigan; he was snoring lightly next to her.

She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. A few minutes later she opened her eyes, suddenly feeling wide awake. She moved around, trying to get into a comfortable position. A few times she brushed against Ratigan's body, and just as quickly moved further away to her side of the bed. Rose wished he was a smaller man; his body took up most of the bed and, even though he respected her, she did not like her privacy being invaded in this way. She thought the entire situation was incredibly awkward, but Ratigan said that they had to keep up appearances as much as possible.

She gave up trying to sleep. Slowly slipping out of the bed so her movements would not disturb Ratigan, she stepped lightly onto the floor and gently replaced the bedclothes over where she had been a moment before. She went to the window, slightly drew the curtain inside, unlatched and opened the window. Her gaze was drawn to the bright orbs in the sky. She had not seen a clear night sky in the longest time. It was hard to see the stars in London, what with first being a barmaid and working all night, and then simply not caring while being in the sewers. The stars looked so peaceful, so content……

Rose heard the mattress springs creak as Ratigan turned his body in the bed behind her. Then she heard him pull back the covers, get up and walk over to her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Looking at the stars. I couldn't sleep, sir." It sounded silly coming out of her mouth.

"Hm." Ratigan pushed back the curtain so he could see as well. "One almost forgets how hard it is to see the stars in London."

"Yes."

Rose waited for Ratigan to go back to bed, but he seemed suddenly inclined to look at the stars. He began to point out constellations to her, telling her their stories. She listened, enthralled, wondering how she could have ever feared this man before.

And secretly wishing that this moment could last forever…

* * *

The next day was one more day of nothingness, of Cathy Moss's small talk and gossip, of Frederick Moss and Ratigan going over business while the women took a walk along the cliffs. Ratigan had informed her this morning that they would be leaving the very next morning. Rose was relieved and disappointed at the same time.

She was quiet, and sad, but luckily Cathy's incessant chattering seemed to prevent her from observing anything amiss in her guest.

That night Ratigan climbed out the window in full evening attire to pay his promised visit to Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap. Rose went to the window and watched him as he crossed the grounds, disappearing down the gravel drive. When he was out of sight she remained, trying to concentrate on the stars. But for some reason, they were not as brilliant this evening as they had been the night before.

After a little while she reluctantly went to bed, but could not sleep again. She kept her eyes on the open window.

* * *

Rose felt in poor spirits on the train ride back. She had despised the visit with the Mosses and the time spent with Cathy, but she had enjoyed Ratigan's company. To her surprise, the professor talked to her, asking her how she had liked Whitby and what she thought of the Mosses. It was small talk, but Rose was grateful for the chance to not think.

When they had run out of things to talk about, Rose cleared her throat. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What was the purpose of your business there?"

Ratigan was trying to hold back a smile. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me that. It certainly took you long enough."

Rose felt embarrassed. She had not wanted to ask him because she had thought that if he really wanted her to know what it was he would have told her. She waited for him to reply to her question, but when he failed to, she repeated her question.

"I cannot tell you."

Rose frowned. "That's unfair."

Ratigan shook his head. "It is fair. You cannot handle certain things. The less you know of those things, the better for you, and for our relationship."

"Now I'm even more curious. Oh please tell me!"

"No."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't be able to handle it."

"Yes I would! How bad could it be?"

"Trust me. You wouldn't be able to."

Rose sighed. They were silent for a few moments.

"Rose." She looked up at Ratigan. "I want you to consider joining my organization permanently. I think you could really do well for yourself."

Rose opened her mouth to speak, but Ratigan stopped her before she could say anything. "I don't want an answer for at least a month. I want you to think long and hard about this, about what you would be getting yourself into. Some people cannot handle the stress of possibly getting caught by the police, or doing whatever needs to be done to complete a job. Take all of this into consideration. Then we'll talk about it."

Rose nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll think about it."

* * *

Rose moved back to her flat in The Rat Trap, to the general surprise of most of the employees. Rose ran into Giovanni one day, who made an insulting comment about Rose being the Boss's 'little plaything.'

Scarlet was thrilled to see the girl again. She visited her the first evening she came back, and found out all that Rose would allow herself to say about her absence. The disreputable woman had heard of the Big Ben Caper, just as everyone else had, and she suspected that Rose had had something to do with it. She did not refer to the Caper, except to say that the girl was only going to get herself killed if she was not careful.

Rose continued her work for Professor Ratigan, as always. She attended several of his meetings for a new job, attentively listening to his detailed plans. She even came on a few more jobs, but only observed the process at Ratigan's side.

She was seriously considering joining Ratigan's organization. A great change had taken place since she had run away from home. When she had first come to London she had been an innocent, quiet, harmless, weak girl. Now, finding her missing family was no longer her greatest desire. She felt that she could no longer relate to them. After all she had seen, all she had been through, taking up her past life would be next to impossible.

The barrel in the sewers felt like her home. She felt like she was important, that her presence there meant something by the way the thugs and the professor treated her. And Ratigan had technically taken her in, saved her from the streets when Giovanni had threatened to throw her out. Although Ratigan had almost shot her when they first met, that incident no longer mattered to Rose.

What mattered was that her heart had changed. It had grown dark and clouded over with evil intent. It did not show on the outside, but she felt the sickness within her heart, the black-hearted and cold thing she had been turned into. She loathed that she helped Ratigan with his crimes, but she also loathed the people above the surface who walked the streets, the stupid and shallow mice who did not care whether she lived or died.

She realized that Professor Ratigan was helping her in the greatest way possible. He was giving her a purpose, a reason to live. Just one amused laugh, one kind glance from those yellow eyes, one nod of acknowledgement, could send Rose from the most dismal depths to the greatest heights. But then he would be short with her, or worse, ignore her, casting her back down into misery and her recurring ideas of suicide. Her emotions fluctuated between both extremes, sometimes on a daily basis.

One month after Ratigan had told her to consider joining him, she told him that she needed more time to think about it. Two months went by, and she asked for even more time. She felt that accepting him would be like signing her soul away. She wanted to do it, but she feared that she would regret it as soon as she did it.

* * *

One dreary day Rose trudged through the sewers, trying to shake off her low spirits. She hoped that Ratigan had another plan in mind; he had not planned a job in a few weeks, and she and the other thugs were getting restless.

Entering the throne room, she found Ratigan playing at his harp, wearing such a dark expression on his face that she could not help but stop and stare at him, trying to figure out what had made him so depressed. His eyes were riveted to one spot in the air, concentrating on something that was not there. His fingers mechanically plucked the strings of the instrument leaning against his massive shoulder.

"Good morning, sir," she said, trying to sound cheerful.

He did not look up, but made a slight nod that made Rose wonder if he had even heard her. She decided that it would be best to start making breakfast, and went into the kitchen.

* * *

He played his harp for most of the morning. She did not know what to do. His sudden mood was making her uneasy. His moods affected everyone in the sewers. She could tell that some of the thugs were worried as well about him.

"He got like this last night," Gerald explained to Rose. "It happens sometimes, especially when it rains. He becomes dark, dangerous, like the devil himself had taken over him. He's actually killed people when he's been in these moods."

"What makes him better?" she asked anxiously.

"Well, playing that harp. But it doesn't always work."

"Isn't there anything else?"

Gerald shrugged. "Just best to keep out of the way until it passes."

"How long will it last?"

"It will last as long as a piece of string, Miss Rose. Long as a piece of string. Tell me how long a piece of string is, and then I'll tell you when he'll be better."

* * *

Ratigan was still that way when Rose was preparing herself to leave at eight that night. She was worried to leave him in the lair by himself. He had not said anything to anyone or eaten anything all day. When she had tried to coax him to eat something, he had given her such a murderous look that she had promptly fled.

She was afraid. But Gerald told her to leave; that she would not be able to do anything anyway.

She left reluctantly, breathing a small prayer for his well-being.

The next morning was bright and sunny, a complete contrast to the day before. Rose dressed quickly, wondering whether the good weather would put Ratigan in a better mood.

But when she got to the lair, she could no find him anywhere. She made his breakfast and everything, but he never appeared.

He was not there the whole day.

The next day was the same, and the next, and the next…

He had been gone from the lair at days at a time before, but never while under the dark mood that Rose had witnessed. No one, not even the thugs had any idea where he might have gone and why. They came every day, asking Rose whether she had seen the professor yet. After several days rumors started to circulate that Basil of Baker Street had captured Ratigan, or killed him, leaving his body in the Thames. Rose went about her work, but with a sick feeling inside. Where was he? Why was he not there? Was he in trouble, hurt?

In a moment of panic, she went into his private quarters, a place she was never allowed into. She found his rooms trashed. Long claw marks were on the walls, furniture was broken up, clothes ripped. She even saw some dried blood on the floor.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. What had happened here?

* * *

Five days after Ratigan had disappeared, Rose went to work as usual. She was taken aback to find Ratigan sitting in his usual attire, talking to Fidget in the throne room. Her heart jumped. He looked perfectly fine, as if he had never been through a dark stage, had never left. He even gave her a slight nod and a small smile as she went into the kitchen.

At breakfast he talked to her of his next great crime, of what he was going to do and how he was going to outsmart Basil once and for all in an animated tone. She listened, so relieved that he was back to his normal self, and hoping that he would not go through such a state of depression again.

* * *

_(Meg storms into a hotel room, rather bruised and battered. JWJ and Luke look up.) _

Meg: Okay, who did it this time?

JWJ: What happened to you?

Meg: Some jerk threw coconuts at me, RAEB, and Lizz as we were staking out Gerard's resort! So we fell out of the palm tree, into the grounds, and they set the guard dogs on us! I didn't even get to see Gerard! Now who's responsible?

Luke: You think _we _would have thrown coconuts at you?

Meg: Well, not really you, Luke. More like JWJ and Ratigan. Where is that rat anyway?

JWJ: He doesn't care about your date; he didn't follow you here.

Meg: Well you don't either, but you're still here.

JWJ: For a tan. Goes good with blonde highlights.

Luke: And about your story… we're starting to think that Rose is in-

Meg: SHUT UP ABOUT THE STORY!

Luke: Why?

Meg: Because… my feelings are hurt. I think I'll go crawl into my hole now, and plot another way to get to Gerard.

JWJ: _(sigh) _Women.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

Meg: Okay, plan number two: We kidnap Emmy Rossum.

Leigh: WHY?

Meg: Because maybe Gerard's Erik side will kick in, and he'll be forced to save her!

Luke: Erik side?

Meg: That's the Phantom of the Opera's name.

Luke: This is really stupid.

RAEB: Yeah. Why would Gerard save Emmy? She's not his responsibility.

Meg: Shut up! This is going to work!

Emma: How?

Meg: Because Ratigan already kidnapped her.

Everyone else: WHAT?

Meg: Yeah…

JWJ: You made a deal with that rat?

Meg: Not really… he kidnapped her for _some_ reason… but I sent Gerard a note saying that the only way he can save her is if he goes to prom with me. I should be getting a response any moment now.

Luke: I hate this.

* * *

Rose ran as fast as she could through the streets of London. A strong November wind blew, trying to drive her back. She continued to press forward, pushing by pedestrians who were taking their time on the sidewalk.

The girl dodged stalls, horses and carts as she headed back to The Rat Trap. She was in much better physical condition than she had been previously; Ratigan made her run every day, to be better prepared in case she ever needed to escape from the police. He made her do a lot of physical exercise, at least ever since she had decided to become a permanent henchman of Ratigan's almost two months ago.

She burst into the pub, shoved past Giovanni, who swore at her, went down the trapdoor, through the pipes, and all the way to the barrel. She burst into the throne room.

"He's sent word!" she said breathlessly, thrusting the envelope at Jack Doonegan, one of Ratigan's higher-commanding henchmen. Doonegan was one of Ratigan's contacts from Dublin, who sometimes worked the East Indies trade for the rat.

Doonegan ripped open the telegram. He frowned.

"What's it say?" Rose asked, still gasped for breath.

He handed it to her. It read:

_Train to arrive at 10:30. Will meet you there. Explain to others. Don't start without me._

_Rochester_

Rose looked up at Doonegan. "Ten thirty? That's much later than we expected."

"He's cutting it really close," Doonegan grumbled.

"You think we can get everything explained to the rest of them?" Rose asked.

"Well, they already heard some of the plan from Ratigan. They tend to listen to him much better than they do to you or me."

Rose gave a short laugh. "Who wouldn't?"

Doonegan began to pace. "Well, I guess it's you and me in charge. Damn that bloody detective."

Ratigan had pulled off a brilliant job in Essex; he had managed to kidnap a millionaire's family, and gotten a magnificent ransom for it. But the millionaire had hired Basil of Baker Street to track down the kidnappers afterwards, and that detective had somehow managed to get hot on Ratigan's trail. The professor had been forced to go back to Essex to cover up the loose ends, and had been stuck there for several days now.

Before the fiasco in Essex had sprung up, Ratigan had already outlined his most recent plan to steal the Crown Jewels from the Tower of London to Rose and Doonegan. The plan had been scheduled for that very night because of a known flaw in the guard at the Tower. As soon as Basil had popped into the picture, however, Ratigan left the completion of the plan up in the air, uncertain to the length of time necessary to get rid of the detective.

And there was the answer, in the telegram Rose was holding. Rochester was Ratigan's personal alias to Rose. He sent everything to her signed 'Rochester', while she sent everything to him signed 'Eyre'.

"You think we can do it?" she asked.

Doonegan scoffed. "Well, if the detective's still in Felsted, we should be all right. The Yardies aren't that hard to hold off should anything go wrong. Where's that crazy bat?"

"Fidget's with the professor. You know that."

"Oh. Yeah."

Rose sighed. "Let's get everyone together then. We've got a job to do."

* * *

The plan was simple. Five thugs were going to get into a 'drunken' brawl in front of one of the entrances to the Tower of London. When the guards came down to investigate, a bunch of the thugs were to attack them and quiet them down. Meanwhile Ratigan, Fidget, Doonegan, Gerald, Bill, and Kilburn would enter the Tower through another entrance, break into the building, go to the room where the Crown Jewels were, let Fidget into that room through a hole too small for most everyone else, have him unlock the door and let everyone in, and have them take as much of the booty as they could carry. They would carry the Jewels out through the main entrance (the only entrance big enough for mice to carry them through) and take the Jewels to the Tower Bridge, where a boat was waiting for them. They would load the boat with the loot and then set off for the dock where The Rat Trap was located, leaving no trail for Basil to follow.

Of course, it would take many trips to get the Jewels from the Tower to the boat, but Ratigan had allowed enough time for that. Ratigan had allowed enough time for everything.

Everything, that is, except for his own arrival.

* * *

Rose shivered as she and the thugs stood around a dark alley near the Tower Bridge. She glanced at pulled out an old pocket watch Ratigan had given her. It was too masculine to complement her dresses, but she liked it anyway. She peered at the hands, trying to read the time.

Doonegan leaned against the wall of one of the buildings, smoking a cigarette.

"Jack, it's quarter past eleven," Rose hissed. "We were supposed to start fifteen minutes ago."

Doonegan shrugged. "He said don't start without him."

Rose looked at the thugs. They were getting restless, starting to grumble and shove each other around.

"Perhaps something's held him up. We've got to do something about it."

"Like what, Rose? Go against his orders and start the job without him?"

"Well… maybe?"

Doonegan tossed the cigarette away. "You're daft."

"But it's going to be too late if we wait any longer!"

Doonegan shook his head. "No."

"It's foolish to wait."

"It's foolish to start when we were told not to."

"Jack!"

The henchman sighed. "Give him ten minutes. If he's not here in ten minutes, then we'll talk about whether to go on or not."

Rose paced the alley. Kilburn looked at her. "Miss Rose, what're we waiting for?"

"Just be patient, Kilburn," she said firmly, but growing nervous inside. "We have everything under control."

Ten minutes later there was still no Ratigan. After a good deal of arguing that lasted another ten minutes, Jack finally gave in to Rose's demand that they start the job anyway, because 'the professor probably won't have another opportunity like this ever again.'

They proceeded to the Tower. Doonegan set everyone into position, all the time swearing at Rose for the risk taken of going ahead without Ratigan. Rose ignored him. If Ratigan got angry, she would allow the blame to fall upon herself alone.

The five thugs who were supposed to start the fight stumbled towards the bridge that crossed the moated walls of the Tower. Doonegan and the others who were working with him headed off to the other entrance, a small hole they had been working for a few months. Rose stayed behind, making sure that the others were in position to quiet down the guard.

The fight started off well. They were rolling around on the ground, kicking and screaming at each other, trying to sound drunk. Rose would not have been surprised if a few of them were actually intoxicated. Two guards dressed in Tudor-styled clothing peered over the wall at the fight. They shouted something about keeping the peace to the thugs, but they were ignored.

Finally one of them came down to break up the fight, but only succeeded in getting knocked out. The other guard raced down to his aid after calling out for some more help. Rose motioned to Tom and Dresner, whispering, "One of you stop him, the other slip in with me as he comes out."

The two thugs ran right into the guard as he came out of the side door. Tom restrained the guard before he could shout out, while Dresner and Rose slipped in the grounds.

Rose looked around. They moved along the wall for a bit, until they saw some Tudor-styled houses within the walls. This was where the guards lived with their families.

"Can you pick the lock of one of those houses?" Rose asked.

"Sure."

"Good. Once inside, grab someone, a child, a wife, anyone as a hostage."

Dresner grinned. He picked the lock and went inside one of the houses, only to return carrying a sleeping girl of about four years. Rose felt so low, but she knew that Ratigan probably would have done the same thing. Rose led the way up one of the parapets, where she could see the fight being broken up by some of the guards.

"Hold up the kid," she said to Dresner. Then, "Hey!" she called out to the guards. "None of you make a move!"

They all looked up, and saw them there. A couple of them shouted.

"Drop your weapons and listen to everything we say, or else this girl and the rest of your families die!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, all the guards and their families were tied up and gagged within the grounds of the Tower. Rose was satisfied. None of them had raised an alarm. She was wondering how Doonegan and the others were fairing when she finally caught sight of all of them staggering under the weight of St. Edward's crown.

Rose laughed at Doonegan. "A little too heavy for you?"

"You can talk all you want if you'll help us with this bloody piece of junk," he snapped back.

She smiled. "All right, I want a dozen of you to stay here and watch the guards. The rest of you help with the rest of the loot."

* * *

They had managed to get all the loot they wanted down into the boat, and were preparing to set off from the Tower Bridge. Tom and Gerald were supposed to blow up the entrance to the Tower, just to spite the police.

Rose heard gunshots coming from the bridge. She caught Doonegan's eye as they ducked for cover. "Has someone spotted us?"

Doonegan paused for a moment and listened as another shot went off. "No, it's too far away." He got to his feet and jumped off the boat.

"Jack!" Rose cried angrily.

"Give me a minute."

Rose sighed. She picked up her skirts and followed him up the stairs to the road. A few other thugs followed her.

They found Tom on the road bleeding from bullet wounds. Gerald was standing over him. "What the hell happened here?" Doonegan demanded.

"He tried to kill me!" Gerald shouted, pointing to Tom. "He tried to shoot me, so I shot the yellow-livered bastard back!"

Rose tugged at Doonegan's sleeve and pointed. He looked up and saw a constable running in their direction.

"Set them off! Damn it, did you two set the kegs off?"

"No!" Gerald exclaimed.

"Get that louse on the boat," he said, motioning to Tom, "I'll be back."

"Jack!" Rose yelled. "Leave it alone!"

"It'll only take a minute."

Two thugs grabbed Tom and headed for the stairs that led to the boat. The constable was still a good distance away, but Rose and Gerald ran back to the boat.

Everyone was scrambling to get the boat ready. In little time the constable reached the stairs and shrilled on his whistle for help. A few of the thugs responded by firing a few shots at him, causing him to duck for cover. He began to shoot back at them.

"Where's Jack?" Rose shouted to Gerald.

They heard something that sounded like a cannon. "Think that's him," Gerald said, shrugging.

"We've got to go, now!"

"Then let's go."

Rose heard more whistles and shouts from the banks.

"Not without Jack!"

"Doonegan can take care of himself."

Rose bit her lower lip. She waited for another few seconds, thinking rapidly. She looked at Gerald. "Fine, let's go!"

"Send her off!" Gerald shouted.

They untied the boat and pushed off just as Doonegan was running down the steps. He made a flying leap for the boat, landed on his leg, and crumbled to the ground.

"AHOW-OW!" he yelped.

Kilburn and Dresner ran to help him. "You okay mate?"

"No, damn it! Think I broke my leg!"

Shots rang out, causing everyone to duck for cover.

"Well little lady," Doonegan said through gritted teeth to Rose, "are you happy now that we completely made a mess of this getaway?"

Rose did not say anything. She was embarrassed for the getaway, but it really had not been her fault. She wondered how it would have gone had Ratigan been there.

And she wondered how Ratigan would react…

* * *

She found out two days later, when Ratigan slammed the door open to the kitchen, causing Rose to shriek and nearly drop a bowl of pudding that she was stirring.

"Oh… she said, seeing who it was. "You scared me, sir. And look, you're back!" she said, smiling.

He did not look happy. The smile on her face wavered.

"Rose, come with me," he said in a strained voice.

She set the bowl down and followed him into the throne room. The Crown Jewels were sitting in the middle of the room, glittering in the light. But their splendor was lost to Rose as Ratigan seated himself on the throne, glaring at her and Jack Doonegan, who was leaning on a crutch nearby.

"I gave you one simple order: 'Do not start without me.' Imagine my surprise when I met a paperboy in the train station this morning, saying that I have somehow managed to be in two places at once."

He threw the paper at their feet. Rose did not even dare to look at it.

"WHICH ONE OF YOU WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT ESCAPADE?" Ratigan barked.

Doonegan pointed to Rose at the same moment that she replied, "It was my fault, sir."

Ratigan looked a little taken aback. "_You_?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is this true?" Ratigan asked Doonegan.

He nodded. "'Twas all her idea, Professor. We had a row about it; got some of the guys involved. They all voted to go ahead."

Ratigan massaged his temples. "So you listened to a seventeen-year-old girl?" he said in an annoyed tone.

Doonegan shuffled his feet. "Well, ah, yes."

"Is she smarter than you, that you have to listen to her advice?"

"Ah, no."

"THEN WHY DID YOU?" Ratigan shrieked.

"Because the others were getting restless… they wanted some action… most of them were all for it-"

"This isn't a democracy, Doonegan! You follow _my_ orders first, and _then _their 'wants!' And you!" Ratigan snapped, turning to Rose. "What did you think you were doing, taking charge?"

"I… I thought that perhaps there was something wrong… you didn't arrive, sir, and that plan was only going to work that evening… and I thought it'd be nice, that you could get the Jewels…" she trailed off.

Ratigan stared at her in disbelief. He then got up and began to inspect the Jewels.

"There is a reason why I deal with these bigger heists," Ratigan said to no one in particular. "My men see me there, and associate my presence with success. If someone else starts giving them their successes, they will begin to depend less and less on my guidance."

Rose tried to catch Doonegan's eye, but he refused to look at her. She sighed.

"Sir, we were only trying to please you."

Ratigan turned around and glared at her. Doonegan tensed up. The professor started towards her.

"Do you fancy yourself a leader, Rose?"

"N-no, sir…"

"THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU LEAD THAT JOB?"

Those terrible eyes looked like they wanted to kill her. She wanted to cry.

"I'm sorry," Rose said, trying to hold back tears. "I… I didn't know it would make you so angry…"

Ratigan grabbed her arm. "Don't you dare cry," he hissed at her. "I'll kill you if you shed even one tear."

She tried to pull herself together. "I-I'm sorry…"

Ratigan threw his face close to hers. She looked away.

Finally he let go of her arm. "Why do I even deal with you two? I've got a mere child on one hand and a goddamn coward on the other!"

He went back to inspecting the Jewels. They stood there uneasy, waiting for him to say something.

After some time he said, "Doonegan, I'll speak with you later!"

The thug nodded and hobbled out of the room as quickly as he could. Rose gulped as Ratigan returned to his throne.

"Rose." She stared at her feet. "I got a detailed account of what happened last night from Gerald and Kilburn. They said that you did an excellent job."

She looked up at Ratigan. He seemed a little pleased with her.

"You, of all people, disobeyed my orders to not start without me, something I never expected to happen."

"I didn't mean to, sir-"

"You also managed to pull the job off nicely, and at the right time," Ratigan added.

She gave him a confused look.

"The reason I didn't get back in time was because Basil had found the trail again. He almost had me… until he received word that I had pulled off the greatest heist in history in London, when he had thought all the time that I had been in Felsted. He gave it up and came back to London!" Ratigan said, laughing wickedly. "Oh, it was perfect!"

Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

After he had finished laughing, he said, "You're off the hook, this time. Get too ambitious and I will have to take matters into my own hands. Understand?"

Rose nodded. She never wanted to disappoint him. "Yes sir. I won't let you down again." She turned to leave.

"One more thing, Rose. The guards at the Tower and a constable heard a woman's voice among my thugs, and the guards and their families actually saw you. They don't have a good description of you, but sources tell me that Basil's trying to go off of that clue. Watch yourself; it would be a shame to lose you to the Yard again."

"Thank you for the warning, sir."

"Stop thanking me and watch your back!" Ratigan said shortly to her.

Rose nodded and hurried back to the kitchen, missing Ratigan's amused grin.

* * *

RAEB: Gerard responded to the note. He says that he's not your type, he already has a girlfriend.

Meg: WHAT? _(grabs note)_ This is crap! What about Emmy?

RAEB: Apparently she was never kidnapped in the first place.

Meg: WHERE IS THAT RAT?


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

Meg:You lied to me!

Ratigan: What did you honestly expect?

Meg: The truth, for once!

Ratigan: _(sighs)_ I'm the Napoleon of Crime. Telling the truth to a seventeen-year-old drama queen isn't on my list of priorities.

Meg: That's it. I'm going to have my revenge!

* * *

"Sir? May I ask a favor?"

"What is it?" Ratigan asked as he made calculations on his chalkboard in the study.

"Well," Rose shuffled her feet, "could I have a day off tomorrow?"

"I give you Sundays off, and that isn't enough for you? What do you need this day off for?"

"Someone wants me to help her find a gift for her cousin's daughter."

"And you can't do that on Sunday?"

"The stores aren't open on Sundays, sir."

"True. I forgot." Ratigan finished up his calculation and set the chalk down. "Who is this 'someone' you're going with?"

"Scarlet Jones, sir."

"The name sounds familiar. Who is she?"

"A… a prostitute, sir. She works around The Rat Trap."

"Interesting. And you're… friends, with this woman?"

"Well, yes," Rose said.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. He looked at a spot above Rose's head, as if deeply contemplating the conversation at hand. "Have you asked me for a day off before?"

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

"Around Christmas."

"Then no."

"But sir, you didn't give it to me."

"I didn't? Why?"

Rose thought that he must be in one of his distracted moods. "Because of that meeting in Stockholm, sir. You made me come with you and take notes."

"Right… well, fine. Have the day off tomorrow." He picked the chalk up again. She turned to leave when he said, "Does this Scarlet Jones know you work for me, Rose?"

"Yes, sir. But she wouldn't tell. No one would."

Rose thought she heard him say something like, "She better not," under his breath, but when she turned around, he was plugging away at another calculation.

"Good night, sir."

He grunted in reply.

* * *

Scarlet and Rose sat in the kitchen of The Rat Trap that afternoon, showing Millie their purchase of that afternoon, a small mechanical man and woman that danced across the table in small, box-like steps.

"It's adorable!" Millie exclaimed. "Why, I've never seen anything like it!"

"That's what I said," Rose said, laughing. "But it was so expensive!"

Scarlet shrugged. "Anythin' for my Deidre. I 'aven't seen the gel since she was a wee liddle baby."

"Where did you find it?" Millie asked.

"Some Scot's toy shop. Flaversham, I think the name was."

Rose took the dancers up in her hand. "There were some other mechanical things in there… toy soldiers, a train, a little cat and dog."

"Way too much on my salary!" Scarlet said.

Rose sighed. "I still say you should have let me pay for it."

"No, no."

"But I have plenty of money."

Scarlet shook her head. "No."

"But you spent so much today! You can't afford that."

Scarlet shook her head. "I'm fine."

Rose frowned. Scarlet was in dire straights right now, and everyone knew it. She had the consumption, and coughed up blood. As a result her business suffered. She was barely hanging onto her flat.

Rose had offered to help her (she had earned so much money from working for Ratigan, both with the cleaning and the crimes, that she had asked the professor to put it in a bank account for her under a different name), but Scarlet had refused.

"Scarlet, you're not doing well. Let me help. I want to help."

"No. Ye earned yer money," she said with a hint of contempt.

"But I want to help you, at least until you get back on your feet."

"No."

Millie sighed. "Rose, give it up. She don't want your money."

"But she _needs _it! And besides, I would probably have been killed when I first arrived here if it hadn't been for Scarlet. I have to pay her back somehow."

"Ye should be killin' me for that," Scarlet said in a low voice. "I always regretted takin' you in that first night."

"Why?" Rose asked.

"Because ye've been corrupted since then. Yer not the same sweet, innocent thing. And it's all my fault."

"Scarlet! You saved me! I love my life!"

"Ye love makin' others suffer?"

"No… but I only help steal things. I don't kill anyone."

"But still… yer stealin' things that don't belong to ye."

Rose was starting to get insulted. "Sometimes you have to put stupid rich people in their places," she said, rewording something Ratigan had once said.

Scarlet stared at her. "I can't believe ye! Ye actually like hurting people, taking their money, the money they worked long an' hard for?"

"No! Only rich people who have more, only-"

"But they're still people, and they still have feelins'!"

"You know, if you really despise my lifestyle so much, then why do you even talk to me?"

"Because I like ye," Scarlet said firmly. "I don't want ye to get into trouble."

"You're a little too late, honey," Millie said matter-of-factly.

"Rose, get yerself out of this mess! Make it easier for yerself!"

Rose sighed. Scarlet did this about once or twice a month, trying to convince her to turn Ratigan in. It had not worked yet.

"No."

"But-"

"No! Scarlet, I've never been happier working for the Boss."

Scarlet shook her head. "What time ye got?"

Rose pulled out her pocketwatch. "Half past six."

Scarlet sighed. "I got to get ready for work. We're talkin' about this later, Rose. Ye need to leave."

* * *

Rose woke up at midnight to the rumbling of thunder. She peeked out the curtain. It was pouring down rain.

She heard someone pounding on her door. She wrapped her blanket around her and went to the door. "Who is it?"

"Gerald. Let me in."

Rose opened the door. Gerald slipped into the room and shut the door.

"Rose, you've got to come. He's in another one of his moods."

"Who?" Rose asked.

"The Boss."

"When did this start?" Rose asked, lighting a candle.

"This morning."

"But I can't do anything!" Rose exclaimed. "My presence seems to irritate him even more when he's like this!"

"He demanded to see you."

"What? Why?"

"No one knows. But he told us he was going to kill one of us if you didn't get down there immediately."

"Let me get changed."

"No. You've got to come, now."

Rose slipped on a pair of slippers and grabbed a shawl and then followed Gerard out the door.

As she was going down the stairs she saw Scarlet coming up with a customer. Their eyes met for an instant as they exchanged a look of pure hatred for each other's occupations. They both looked away, but the sting did not leave Rose.

They went through the pub. It was extremely crowded this evening; so crowded that Rose caught sight of Millie serving patrons. She knew that Millie hated working as a barmaid, but Giovanni made her do it when they were understaffed.

Rose followed Gerald through the sewers, into the barrel, through the throne room, the study, and to Ratigan's private quarters. A few of the thugs were huddled around the doorway. She had seen signs of Ratigan's wrath in the study; whole shelves had been ripped out of the bookcases, and there were claw marks on the chalkboard. But what she saw as she and Gerald entered his quarters shocked her. Almost everything had been ripped up or thrown about. Rose saw him sitting on an easy chair facing the door with a revolver on his lap, minus his jacket and cravat, and smoking a cigarette.

He simply fired the gun at them.

Gerald grabbed Rose's arm and pulled her back behind the door.

"Come back here, cowards!" Ratigan snarled.

Rose gave Gerald a bewildered look.

"Professor Ratigan, it's Gerald," the thug called out. "I've brought Miss Rose, like you wanted."

"Where is she?"

"Right here."

"Then why doesn't _Miss Rose_ come in?" he said in a dark voice.

"Because you're shooting at us, Professor."

"She's not there! You're lying. Come out Gerald, and tell me the truth!"

"She's here. You saw her go through the door."

"So I did. Come out Rose!" he said in a mocking way.

She began to go forward, but Gerald stopped her.

"Don't be a fool!" he hissed.

"Rose? I demand that you come here, right now!"

Gerald took a deep breath. "She can't come in until you put the gun down."

"So one of you can shoot me when I'm caught off guard? How stupid do you think I am?"

"Rose doesn't have a gun."

"Let her come in, then. I don't shoot at _ladies_."

"Maybe it will calm him down," Rose whispered to Gerald. Then, "I'm coming sir!" She stepped into the doorway and went into the room.

Ratigan grinned at her in a demonic way. "Well, if it isn't our little Rose, come back to us. Where have you been, Rose?"

"I've been sleeping in my flat above the pub, sir."

"No, earlier."

"Sir?"

"Come closer, away from the door. Why did you miss work today?"

Rose stepped forward, about halfway between the door and Ratigan. "You gave me the day off, sir. You told me that I could have it off."

"Come closer. Day off? You don't get days off. Where were you?"

"I was looking for a gift for someone's goddaughter."

"Closer, Rose. Who?"

She was right in front of him now. "Scarlet Jones."

"Don't lie to me, Rose."

"I'm not, sir. I have no reason to-"

"Shut UP! I know where you've really been. You've been with Basil, haven't you?"

"What? No-"

"He's out there right now, waiting for me to come out!" Ratigan roared, jumping up and grabbing Rose by the front of her nightgown. He shook her violently. "Isn't he? Tell me!"

"He isn't, I swear to God he isn't!"

"You lying whore! You went and blabbed everything to him, when you were gone!"

"No! I'd never betray you, sir, never!"

"Liar! You're all liars! You all made a deal with him, so you could have all that I've worked for! Basil doesn't care about my money, he only wants me!"

"He's no out there sir!" Rose cried.

Ratigan pulled her against him with one arm, pressed the gun to her head and shouted to the door, "Come out Basil! I know what you're up to. Come out!"

Rose trembled uncontrollably, certain that the professor had gone mad.

"There's no one out there," she said quietly.

"Come out Basil, or I'll shoot her!"

"No! There's no one out there!" Rose cried. "It's only me! I'm the only one here!"

"Come on Basil. Don't hide like a coward. Come out!"

There was a dreadful silence. Rose knew that Gerald or the other thugs would not come to her aid; Ratigan might mistake them for Basil and shoot them.

"Ten, nine, eight-"

Rose knew she was going to die.

"-seven, six-"

A sliver of hope appeared. She reached for her neck.

"-five, four… what the hell are you doing?"

He cocked the gun as she yanked the locket off her neck. She held it up to him.

"The Rose you gave this to would never betray you!"

The silence seemed to consume the room. Rose held her breath, knowing that a wrong move could mean the difference between life and death now.

Ratigan let go of her and snatched the locket away from her, still pressing the gun to her head. She closed her eyes.

She heard the gun drop. It went off, causing Rose to shriek. When she opened her eyes, she saw that it had landed facing the door, so the bullet had not hit them.

She turned around just in time to see Ratigan collapse onto the ground.

* * *

Ratigan:_(to Meg) _I DON'T COLLAPSE!

Emma: You do go mad, though.

Ratigan: WHAT?

Leigh: Ext-nay on the ad-may, Emma.

JWJ: I don't understand. Why are all these stories about Ratigan?

Meg: Because he's my favorite villain.

Ratigan: Do you want to die?

Meg: _(mocking Ratigan)_ I'm not on your priority list!

Ratigan: No, you're not on my list of people to be nice to. You are on my list of people to eliminate as quickly as possible.

Meg: I'm used to death threats. It's really starting to get old.

Ratigan: You're going to wish you were dead after I'm through with you!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

Meg: Okay, to answer Ytak's question: This story isn't on my Meg Sarentis timeline; it's a completely different story. I've gotten bored with Meg Sarentis, so we'll have to see where I go next with that.

Rose first came to The Rat Trap in March 1896, and since the movie takes place in 1897, she's working for Ratigan before the fall from Big Ben. Right now in the story it's February 1897. Going by Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee (yeah, I had too much spare time in study hall so I researched it), Queen Moustoria's Diamond Jubilee celebration is going to be on June 21. Rose's birthday is on June 22.

Coincidence? I think not, mwhahahahaha!

* * *

They managed to get Ratigan in his bed. Rose could not think anything else that could be done. He was not completely unconscious. He kept muttering to himself, but he did not appear to comprehend anyone's presence there.

There was a strong debate about whether or not they should try to tie him up. Rose was against it, because she thought it might set him off again. In the end she was overruled by the other thugs.

Fidget was trying to tie Ratigan's right hand to the bedpost when he snapped. With one swipe of his claws Fidget was sent halfway across the room. He jumped on the rest of them, bit Bartholomew in the arm until he drew blood, and started to lash out at anyone who got in his way. One blow to her chest threw Rose against the wall.

All the thugs scattered, leaving Rose and Fidget in the room. Rose froze in her tracks. Ratigan did not seem to actually _see_ them; he was too full of rage.

Fidget, however, only knew that he wanted to get as far away from his boss as possible. He began to scamper towards the door.

"BASIL!"

Ratigan picked up part of a broken chair and started after Fidget. Rose knew he was probably going to end up killing the bat. She jumped up and yelled, "Sir, it's me!"

He stopped and turned around. She could see madness in those eyes. But she also saw something else… was it fear?

Fidget made it to the doorway and disappeared from sight. The door closed softly behind him.

"Who are you?" Ratigan asked hoarsely. He was looking right at her, but he looked so lost, as if he was trapped within his own tortured imagination. She was too afraid to answer. He lifted up the chair. "WHO ARE YOU? ANSWER ME!"

"It's me, sir. Rose McGeady."

He dropped the chair, and looked like he was going to collapse again. He grabbed the bedpost and leaned on it. "No… NO! You're a phantom, one of those phantoms! Stay away from me!"

"I'm not a phantom, sir."

"STAY AWAY!" he screamed. "You here me? STAY AWAY!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, sir. I cannot hurt you."

He took a step towards her. "Who are you? Where are you? Speak! Where are you!"

"Right here," she said, pressing herself against the wall. He took another step, and another.

"It's you? Not a phantom?" he said half-threateningly, half pleadingly. "Don't lie to me!"

"I cannot lie to you, sir," Rose said, her voice trembling, as he reached his hands towards her voice.

As if by instinct, she reached her hand out and grasped his monstrous claw. He clamped the other hand over hers and pulled her towards him. He ran his hands over her face.

"Is it you?"

"It's me, sir."

He drew her towards him and began to silently sob. Rose closed her eyes, feeling him shake against her.

"Rose," he whispered. "I am a fool… Rose…"

"No, you're not, sir. You're anything but a fool," she muttered back, burning inside to say what she really longed to reveal.

_I love you, sir. I have loved you ever since that night you told me stories about the stars. I know I'm young and naïve, but I know that I never want to leave you. I'd die to know you love me, sir. I think you do; there are times when I think I do… but maybe it is only a foolish young girl's fancy. Perhaps you won't admit it to yourself. Please, please say you love me… _

* * *

Rose was so weary. Professor Ratigan would not calm down until he had her assurance that she would stay by him as he slept, and even then he did not rest easy. He tossed and turned and cried out things in his sleep. The other thugs had cleared out long ago; none of them dared to come in after the last time he had snapped. She had been up with him, alone, all night long.

She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and watched him. He was finally sleeping peacefully, looking as if a great weight had been lifted from him. She yawned and lay down on the cold, hard floor next to the bed. She could not sit up anymore. All she wanted to do was sleep…

* * *

Scarlet woke up with a start. She sat up straight and looked around the room. Rose was not back yet.

After seeing Rose last night, in her nightgown, with that thug, she guessed where she was going. Scarlet had panicked. What business did she have in the sewers at that time of night, and not even dressed properly?

Scarlet had wanted to stop the girl from going down there, but she could not get over the look on Rose's face when she saw the whore with her customer. Scarlet had been too shocked, too hurt to say anything.

After she had finished her business, Scarlet had gone back to Rose's flat, determined to get her to turn Professor Ratigan in before she lost the little innocence she had left. The door had been unlocked, and the room empty. Scarlet had sat down on the bed, waiting for Rose to come back. But she had fallen asleep…

Scarlet had never been one to care for others. She had had her heart broken at fifteen, and had never quite recovered. It was one reason she had fallen into her occupation; she was looking for a love that she had been hungering for. But many men, many nights later, she realized that she had hardened herself to love for others. She deliberately made a point to have no friends. That was, until one rainy March evening almost one year ago…

It had been pity that had moved Scarlet to help Rose. She thought that the girl would leave her world soon anyway and would forget all about it. It was not supposed to last, her camaraderie with Rose. But one instance after another occurred; she had watched Rose wither and fade under Giovanni's abuse, fall into the trap of London's underworld, sink into her own depression, and finally end up becoming a part of the Ratigan's diabolical crime chain.

Scarlet had tried. Oh God, she had tried! She had tried to free Rose from the trap, to save an innocent from the evil her association with Ratigan would inevitably produce. Had she irreversibly transformed from the shy, sweet, innocent, naïve girl of one year ago to a young woman tainted with the stains of sin and wickedness?

Rose had once told Scarlet that her heart had been changed. Well, so had Scarlet's. She cared about what happened to Rose because Rose was her friend. And friends came to each other's aid when they were in trouble, right?

Like when Rose paid Scarlet's rent for four months without her knowing it. And the time that the girl got some of Ratigan's thugs to rescue Scarlet when a violently drunk customer had almost beaten her to death in the alley behind the pub. Scarlet still had scars from the incident, but at least she was still alive.

And now Rose needed her help.

Scarlet looked at the pocket watch that Rose had left on the nightstand. It was almost noon! Where was she?

Maybe Ratigan had hurt her. Maybe he had even killed her…

Scarlet turned over the toiletries on the nightstand. She gently fingered the tarnished silver brush and mirror, the hair pins, the leather-bound copy of _Anna Karenina_ from the Professor's collection. She turned over the leaves of the book. She tried to read it, but her literacy was limited, so she eventually put the book down again.

Scarlet moved to the old trunk Rose had bought in a second-hand shop. She opened it and began to look through the clothes. There were blue and black skirts; white shirts, some plain, some with colored stripes, to match, and green, mauve, yellow, navy blue, purple, black dresses. At the bottom of the trunk were two patched dresses, one black and one a faded green, and a copy of _A Tale of Two Cities,_ the last remnants of a home long forgotten. Scarlet knew that Rose considered the sewers her home, the thugs her brothers, Professor Ratigan her…

What did she consider Ratigan to be? What was their relationship? Once, in their arguments about Rose's occupation, she had heatedly told Scarlet that the Boss was the cure for her sickness, the antidote for her poison, the answer to her frantic prayer.

Scarlet slammed the trunk shut. She looked out the window. It was dark and overcast out, but the rain had stopped. She referred to the pocketwatch again. Almost one o'clock.

"Forgive me, dearie," Scarlet muttered, putting on her cloak. "I'm goin' to get ye out and away if it's the last thing I do."

* * *

Rose opened her eyes and found herself on the bed. How did she get here? She was covered up. She looked over at the other side of the bed. Ratigan was not there.

She sat up. Her head swam slightly. She looked around the room. It looked like it had been cleaned up some; at least all the broken furniture and clothes were in two piles by the door.

She threw off the covers and found that the shawl was still wrapped around her shoulders. She found her slippers next to the bed. She put them on and went through the door and into the study. She found no one there, so she went into the throne room.

Rose found no one there as well. She checked the kitchen, the cells, everywhere; there was no one in sight. She decided to give it up and go back to her flat when she heard the grate shut behind her.

She turned around just in time to see Professor Ratigan stop in his tracks. He looked surprised, as if he had not expected to find her there.

There was a moment of embarrassed silence between them.

Ratigan nodded at her. "So you're finally up."

"Yes, sir."

They fell into silence again. Rose was starting to get uncomfortable and cold, so she moved towards the grate. "Sorry, sir," she whispered, hurrying past him.

He looked astonished. "For what? Where are you going?"

"To get dressed, sir."

"Rose…" he began. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him.

He coughed. "Come back around ten. I have a new plan I want to outline to everyone."

Rose nodded. "Goodbye, sir."

"_Goodbye?_ Are you leaving for good?" he said half-teasingly, half of some other emotion Rose could not detect.

"No, never," Rose said softly. "I don't know whether to say 'good afternoon' or 'good evening', sir. I don't have a watch to tell the time."

"It's about six in the evening."

"Oh. Well, good evening then, sir." She turned back to the grate and descended into the pipes.

* * *

The distance from the lair to the pub seemed to be longer than usual. Rose could not shake off the feeling that something was following her. She stopped a few times and looked into the darkness: nothing. Once she turned around and yelled, "WHO'S THERE?" only to be met with echoes of "Who's there?" bouncing off the walls.

But there was one point when she abruptly stopped; the light pattering of feet that soon stopped to hide the fact that someone was there convinced Rose that her imagination was not getting away with her.

Rose lost it. She fled through the pipes, only wanting to get away from the unknown fiend who was thus torturing her already confused mind.

She finally made it to the trapdoor. Breathing heavily, she turned around, half hoping to catch a glimpse of her pursuer. But no one came out of the pipe.

She slowly entered the surface, wondering what was lurking beneath.

* * *

Ratigan watched Rose slowly climb through the trapdoor from the darkness of the pipe. He waited a few minutes, until he was sure that she had gone up to her flat. Then he went up to the trapdoor and to the pub.

He directly headed for the kitchen, where Giovanni and Millie were having a shouting match.

"You're scum! Low-lying scum!" Millie shrieked.

"You don't know what you're talking about, woman! I can't run a business with you people stealing left and right from me!"

"No one stole your watch! You pawned it to Lizabetta, and you want to blame us so you can get the money!"

"Listen here, you stupid cow-"

Ratigan entered the room, abruptly ending all conversation. Giovanni's jaw dropped,. He quickly recovered, bowing low to the ground.

"How can I help you, sir?" he asked, trying his best to sound accommodating.

"I want to speak with Millie. Alone."

Giovanni bowed, replying, "As you wish, sir. If there is anything else I can-"

"NOW!"

The bartender quickly obeyed, shooting Millie a glare of resentment.

Millie quickly wiped her hands on her apron, looking embarrassed. "I was goin' to come down and tell her, just like you said, Boss, but that ass Gio started in on me stealing his watch, and it… slipped my mind. I'm so sorry, sir! I swear I'll do it now!"

Ratigan leaned over the table towards Millie. His face was void of emotion. "It was fortunate you didn't come down. She's already awake." He pointed to the ceiling. "She's in her flat now. If she doesn't come down in half an hour, go up and break the news to her."

Millie stared at the floor. "Yes, Boss."

* * *

Ratigan: You did it again! You paired me up with someone!

Meg: No, I didn't! I made someone fall in love with you! _(grumbles)_ Even though I don't see why anyone would want to…

Ratigan: I will have my revenge!

Meg: Hey, this is MY revenge for you taking my CDs and destroying my car and ruining my chances with Gerard.

Ratigan: You never had any chances with Gerard!

Meg: _(sighs)_ I hate prom.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

* * *

_(Meg's review team is in Wal-Mart.)_

Meg: I heard they got copies of The Phantom of the Opera DVD early!

Emma: So where's the display? We've been everywhere!

Meg: Good question. Let's ask this cashier.

Leigh: Hey buddy, where're The Phantom of the Opera DVDs?

Cashier: We got a shipment in last night.

RAEB: And?

Cashier: Some jerk stole the whole lot!

Meg: _(jaw drops)_ NOOOOOOOO!

* * *

Rose pressed her face into her pillow, trying to stifle her cries.

"It's not true!" she shrieked in a muffled voice.

Millie rubbed her back. "I'm sorry, dear. She was a good'un, Scarlet was."

"She's not dead!" Rose cried.

Millie sighed. If only Rose knew…

Scarlet's body had been found in an alley, horribly mutilated, around two thirty that afternoon. There had been no witnesses to the murder; it appeared to have been done quickly and quietly.

"Who would do such a thing to her?" Rose sobbed. "She never did any harm to anybody!"

"There are cruel people in this world," Millie said softly.

"But her cousin is coming in three days… she wanted to see Deidre… she has to see Deidre! It isn't fair!"

"Life isn't fair, dearie."

"But she wasn't supposed to… it's not fair!"

Millie stroked the girl's hair. "There, there… cry it all out. You've still a life to live. Don't let it affect you so."

"How can I? She…" Rose gasped, "…she was my friend, my confidante, my protector… my only friend…"

* * *

Rose spent the next few weeks in a sort of distorted nightmarish world. Scarlet's cousin came with her daughter, only to be met with grief and policemen and questions she could not answer and the responsibility of funeral arrangements and putting Scarlet's things in order. Rose longed to help her, but Ratigan had forbidden it because he did not want the police and Basil of Baker Street, who were working on the case, to recognize her. The police were under the impression that Jack the Ripper had come back after a nine-year absence, but one never knew what Basil could pull from the appearance of one familiar face.

Rose was angry with Ratigan. She wanted to help Scarlet's cousin, ease the pain, tell her how much Scarlet was loved and respected. But it was never to be. She had to remain loyal to Ratigan's wishes, as she had always done, because her heart would not allow the possibility of disappointing him.

Two weeks later, the cousin and little Deidre were gone. Scarlet's effects had either been sold or taken. The world moved on, focusing their attention on the next murders and violent crimes. To Rose it was one unending cycle of life and death. Why not give it all up? Everyone dies anyway. Why not succumb to death now, when there was no point in continuing in this turbulent life, forever spiraling downward in a web of misery and suffering?

* * *

Ratigan walked into the kitchen one day to find Rose clutching something to her chest, sobbing. A tattered green dress lay on the ground.

He felt something close to rage within him. Rose had been mopping around along for weeks, and it was really starting to get to him. The whore was dead. End of story. Why make some big production of it?

And here he was, still being bothered by it.

He cleared his throat. Rose's head snapped up. She jumped up and turned around, moving the object she had been clutching to her chest around behind her back while trying to wipe her eyes.

"So-sorry, sir," she whispered.

"What's all this?" Ratigan asked, glaring at her. "Are you still crying about that whore?"

"Ya-yes…" Rose stuttered, taking short, gasping breathes.

"Now listen," Ratigan snapped. "You're really trying my nerves with all this moping around for some goddamned whore. She wasn't of any use to anyone in life, so don't waste your breath on her in death!"

Rose seemed to stop breathing. She slowly pulled out the thing she had been holding: the dancing man and woman that Scarlet had bought for Deidre, along with a piece of paper.

Ratigan turned to go and leave Rose to think about what he had just said when she said, "You did it, didn't you?"

Ratigan ignored her and left the room.

Rose looked dumbly at the toy and the note in her hands. She reread the note:

_Roz,_

_I dun it fer yoo._

_Scarlet_

She had found it within the folds of her old green dress from her days as a barmaid in the pub, along with the toy. Kitty had told her that she had seen Scarlet going into her room the night before her death, and then coming out the next day, an hour or so before her murder.

Rose had been tearing up her old dress to use as rags when she had found the toy and the note. And suddenly, it made sense.

Rose dropped the toy and the note ran out into the throne room. "No, say you didn't! Say you didn't!" she exclaimed.

Ratigan turned around, furious. "Rose, she was a goddamned whore! She was of no use to anyone! She knew the rules; knew that she'd be safe as long as she kept her mouth shut! She wasn't happy with keeping her mouth shut, so measures were taken!"

Rose stopped dead in her tracks. "What?" she asked weakly, hardly expecting that he would confess so easily. "You… you never told me?"

Ratigan's anger was growing. "What is there to tell, Rose? I cannot read where your loyalties lie!"

"What?" Rose asked, internally staggering from the blows of his words.

"You are naïve and inexperienced! You cannot handle what I do! I cannot get you to pick up a gun, to kill anyone!" Ratigan clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, loosening his shoulders. Then, in a notably calmer voice, he said, "What would you have done if you knew that whore was going to betray me to the Yard? Would you have stopped her, done anything within your power to shut her up for good?" There was an uneasy silence. Rose was too shocked to think, too shocked to react. Ratigan gave a smirk. "I didn't think so." He turned away again.

"I would have never let her betray you," Rose said in a small, scared voice.

Ratigan looked back at her in disbelief. She seemed to be rallying herself to say something she had been preparing herself to say for a long time.

Then, in a strong, tremulous voice, she said, "Your success is my success. Your happiness is my joy. Your downfall is mine as well. Whatever happens to you happens to me." She looked him in the eyes. "Professor Ratigan, your destiny is my destiny."

So it was out… well, almost. Rose waited expectantly for his response, for the words she had been dying to hear for so long.

Ratigan gave a short laugh. "Rose, every one of my men understands that. Their livelihoods are tied to my successes. The question is, can you confirm your loyalty to me?"

Rose resented his answer. This conversation was not going the way she had always planned it would. "But… I have, so many times! What else can I do?"

"Hm."

Rose shifted her feet uneasily. "Sir, I'm sorry. I… I had no idea Scarlet was going to do you such a wrong turn. I would have stopped her somehow…"

"Would you have killed her?"

Rose bit her lips. Then, "Yes, sir. I believe I would have."

A wave of relief seemed to wash over Ratigan. Normally he would have bothered Rose for the word 'believed', and forced her to say that she definitely would have killed for him. But he decided that he was satisfied with her original answer.

"Then let's have no more mopping around about this whore. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Rose said, feeling the last of her goodness, her purity, rapidly slipping away from her.

* * *

Rose felt like a fool. She had almost held her heart out to Ratigan, and all she got in return was a laugh and an answer that literally told her, "You should be devoting yourself to me because nothing less is expected of you." Her talk with Ratigan threatened to throw her down into the abyss of her own darkness with despair of the hopelessness of her love for him.

But the next day, when she went to work, Ratigan surprised her with a gift- a gold bracelet studded with rubies.

"What did I do, sir?" Rose asked hopefully.

Ratigan simply answered. "You've been loyal to me, Rose. I reward those who are loyal to me."

It was enough to lift Rose up out of her depression. The world was brighter, cheerier. She belonged here with him. He may not say he loved her, but maybe, just maybe he felt something. Right?

Young girls have the craziest notions about love, especially a first love. Many older than them have the same juvenile notions. This is why people tolerate abuse, violence, disloyalty on the part of the person they love. It was why Rose could harm others for him. He was evil; he was against everything she had been brought up to believe in. Her faith in people, in goodness, was shaken because of him. His goodness, his kindness to her was all that mattered. All that mattered was his love, if only she could attain it!

But why would he love such a plain, stupid, unsophisticated little girl like her? She was nothing special, she told herself. He deserved beautiful, witty women, women who were everything she was not. She was jealous of those women, jealous of any woman she saw speaking with him. Then she would think: how could he ever feel anything for her?

It was the hopelessness of the position that Rose despised. How could he ever feel the same for her as she did for him?

One bright, clear night, as Ratigan was eagerly setting another one of his brilliant plans in motion, Rose thought to herself,

_I've always been right behind you, sir. Perhaps some day I will be right beside you, as your equal. Maybe then you can love me… _

* * *

"Good morning, sir," Rose said cautiously to him one morning as she came into the study with his breakfast.

He had been in one of his depressed moods recently. The reason? Ratigan could not find a foolproof way to sabotage Queen's Moustoria's Diamond Jubilee that was to take place in a few days. Every plan he thought up, each more elaborate than the last, had some sort of loophole Ratigan would discover soon after outlining it to her or Doonegan.

Ratigan was sitting at the table, looking at something. "Rose, what is this?" he asked.

She set her tray down and looked over his shoulder. She recognized the toy that Scarlet had bought for Deidre, the one that had been left in the folds of her green dress. She explained this to the professor, who was looking thoughtful.

"They dance, like real people," Ratigan said more to himself than to her.

"Yes it does, sir."

"Who made it?"

Rose tried to remember the name of the toymaker. "I don't exactly recall." Actually she had tried to forget everything about Scarlet since then, including that toy. Shortly after she had found out Ratigan was responsible for Scarlet's death she had shoved the toy in a drawer in the kitchen and had promptly forgotten about it.

"I want you to find out today. Go back to the store, find the name of the toymaker."

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

* * *

_(Meg and everyone else barges into her room, only to find Ratigan sitting in a chair eating chips watching the masquerade scene with a whole pile of Phantom DVDs next to him.)_

Ratigan: _(singing to himself)_ "Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade, hide your face so the world can never find you…"

Meg: YOU!

Ratigan: _(chokes on chips, then looks up, embarrassed) _What? What are you doing here?

Luke: Well, it was sort of obvious when the Wal-Mart guy said that the guy who stole the DVDs was wearing an opera cape and a top hat.

Ratigan: Wal-Mart people even know what an opera cape is?

RAEB: That's rude!

Ratigan: I doubt the intelligence of a store that sells little, fat, singing things with warts all over them.

RAEB: You mean Booh-bahs? Those things are scary! Like Tellatubies!

Meg: Okay, whatever. I'm just taking one of these DVDs and getting on with my Phantom experience.

Ratigan: No, you're not! That was the point of stealing them!

Meg: Then why did you bring them all back to my bedroom? Take your stolen stuff back to your own place!

Ratigan: I'm not wasting my space with this garbage!

Meg: You were singing to it, jerk! How can it be garbage if you were singing to it?

Ratigan: That "Float On" song by Modest Mouse is also garbage, but it's catchy.

Leigh: _(singing)_ "All right, all ready, we'll all float on"-

Meg: Argh! You're all impossible!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

* * *

Meg: We all know what is going to happen from now on, right? I mean, the whole Diamond Jubilee. You may be asking, "How is Rose going to be involved? There were no female thugs in the movie!" Be patient. I promise I have thought this out extensively. It makes sense.

* * *

"_From the brains that brought you the Big Ben Caper_

_The head that made headlines in every newspaper…"_

Rose laughed to herself as the words of Ratigan's self-dedicated song wafted to the kitchen. He could be really self-absorbed sometimes, but she did not mind; she has vested an interest in him as he had in himself.

She finished putting together a tray of fish, cheese biscuits and tea for the toymaker, Flaversham, who Ratigan was using for his latest scheme. The professor had already outlined the plan to Rose. It was brilliant, she had to admit. She just wished that Flaversham had not been forced into it. He was such a kind, sweet man, and he did not need the taint of a crime on his shoulders.

Rose took up the tray and left the kitchen through the back entrance, not wanting to disturb the singing and drinking she knew was going on in the throne room. She pattered towards the cell occupied by Flaversham, took out her keys, unlocked the door, and opened it.

The toymaker looked up sadly when she came in. "Oh. Hello, Miss Rose."

"I've brought you dinner," Rose said, trying to cheer him up.

"Thank you," he said, going back to his robot.

"Come on, take a break. That can wait."

Flaversham seemed relieved that he would be free from his burden, if only for a short while. "Miss Rose?" he asked as he sat down at the table. "The professor was just in here a few minutes ago."

"Oh?" Rose frowned. She despised how Ratigan treated his captives; he was charming and friendly while giving the person a sense of their impending doom if they did not fulfill his wishes. Such treatment confused already frightened people.

"He… he's going to bring my Olivia here!" Flaversham cried out. "Here, to this horrible place!"

Rose groaned inwardly. Ratigan had told her that he was going to be forced to if Flaversham did not cooperate. Apparently he had refused to cooperate.

"He wouldn't dare hurt her… would he?" he asked.

She was just about to reply when she heard the sound of Ratigan's bell. She and Flaversham's eyes locked as they heard the pounding of Felicia's feet upon the stone floor. There was a pause; Rose thought she had heard someone singing. And then… a meow.

Rose was inwardly panicking. What had caused Ratigan to use the bell on someone? Who had it been? She prayed that it had not been Gerald; he was one of her closer friends. But she knew that she could do nothing about it. Ratigan had often threatened to use the bell on everyone, a warning not taken lightly. Often Rose wondered when her turn would be.

Rose saw Flaversham's fears in his eyes, confirmed by the fear in hers.

"He wouldn't," he whispered.

"Please, don't make it any harder for yourself," Rose said softly.

Flaversham looked dumbly at his food. "How can you work for such an evil man?"

"He has always been good to me," Rose lied.

"But to betray the Queen! How can you?"

Rose stiffened. She was having trouble dealing with that part of the crime. Stealing something, like the Crown Jewels did not matter to her. But regicide? She had been brought up to love the Queen. Assisting in her murder had not been something Rose ever thought she'd find herself a part of.

Flaversham raised his eyes to her face. "You were forced in this life, weren't you?" When she did not answer, he said, "I'm sorry for you."

"Don't be," Rose said crossly, getting up to go.

"Miss Rose-" Flaversham paused. "Please, if he gets a hold of my Olivia, protect her for me."

"I cannot-"

"Please!" The pain in his eyes touched an emotion that she thought had been long dead.

She bit her lip, and then said, "I'll try." With that, she left.

Rose locked the door and leaned against it. She sank down onto the steps wearily.

Flaversham had been probably the most communicative captive Ratigan had ever had. He remembered Rose from February, when she and Scarlet had bought the toy for Deidre. Rose was already guilty that he should remember her, that she had met him before doing him this wrong turn.

Rose was the product of an experiment a sick and twisted mind had contrived; her heart and soul belonged to him, and he gave her little in return to satisfy her spirit. Flaversham someone sensed this, and had from the start been kindly with her. Rose started to regret Ratigan's influence on her, all the evil she had done, because this poor man felt sorry for what she had become.

There was something else that was bothering Rose. She was afraid that Ratigan's scheme would work. He had high goals for himself; goals he planned to begin as soon as he took the throne. Rachel Dunlap had been visiting him more and more often, and spoke of when Ratigan would be king. Rose had heard them talk; Rachel was going to leave her husband to join Ratigan in London.

She gripped the locket around her neck. She feared that Ratigan's sudden rise to power would make him forget all about his little Rose… and for what? A flighty woman? A government Rose could not help run?

She wanted to die. If she lost him, she did not know what she was going to do. She had already sacrificed almost everything she had for him.

Almost everything a young woman can sacrifice…

* * *

Sometime later Rose approached Ratigan, who was talking to Doonegan about the crime. The rest of the thugs were till drinking and carousing. "Sir? Can I speak with you?" she asked.

He glanced at her, and then did a double take when he saw the worried look on her face. "Why?"

"In private, sir. Please?"

"Let's go to the study. I'll speak with you later, Doonegan."

When they were in the study, Ratigan closed the door and offered her a seat. She remained standing and faced him. He leaned against the door, folded his arms, and said, "Well? What's all this about?"

"Sir, I don't want to be a part of this crime."

Ratigan's eyes narrowed in suspcion. "Don't be silly. You're going to help."

"I… I cannot."

"Rose…" he said in a warning tone, sounding annoyed.

"I've thought this out, sir. I really have. I'm not like you. I cannot kill anyone. Not even the Queen."

"You're not going to-"

"But I'd be directly involved," she interrupted.

"You are already involved. You're the one who gave me Flaversham's name. Now stop being ridiculous."

"But sir!" Rose cried. She realized her voice was trembling. She tried to pull herself together and sound more matter-of-fact. "Sir, I want to be in the audience at the Jubilee. I want to see you in the beginning stages of your power. I cannot help you get into the palace anyway; I cannot act the part of a palace guard. I'm a woman. But I want to see you, in all your glory…" her voice trailed off.

Ratigan was giving her a strange look. "You don't want to be backstage, with the others? You want to be lost in that crowd?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't want to be in my government, Rose?"

"How can I, sir? I know nothing of governing. How could I be of any use to you after you gain your power?"

Ratigan seemed to understand her. "So this is what this is all about? You're afraid I am going to drop you as soon as I take over the kingdom?"

Rose blushed. She decided not to bother elaborating on the fact. "I know it, sir."

He gave a strange, unbelieving sort of laugh. "Well, I'll be damned." Then he laughed harder.

"Sir?" Rose said indignantly, insulted that he was laughing at her.

He calmed down a bit. "Rose, Rose, Rose," he said, chuckling a little. "I reward those who help me. Remember?"

"But I cannot help you anymore."

"Really?"

Rose looked up at him. He looked amused. "How?" she asked.

Ratigan stared at her a minute, as if he was sizing her up. She blushed again.

"Rose, I'll make a deal with you. Take some of the money in the throne room and buy yourself a dress. Take a night off. Go to the Jubilee. Let us handle everything. Afterwards, come back to the Queen's quarters, and we'll discuss your career then."

"After the Jubillee?"

"Yes, afterwards. I have something for you. All right?"

So there was hope! Rose gave him a small smile. "All right, sir."

* * *

The next day Rose was shocked to find a little girl in a green bottle outside the barrel. As soon as the little girl saw her she began to bang on the glass and shout, "Help me! Let me out!" in a muffled voice.

Rose hurried over, but stopped, embarrassed, when she got to the bottle. The girl was obviously Flaversham's daughter. Poor girl, to be stuck in a bottle!

"I'm sorry," Rose said apologetically. "I cannot let you out."

"Please! I need your help." She pointed to Flaversham's cell and looked with pleading eyes at Rose. "My daddy's in there, and that big, old, stupid rat has got him!"

"Don't call him a rat," Rose warned softly.

"Please, get Mr. Basil!"

"Basil? Basil of Baker Street?" Rose frowned.

The little girl looked hopefully at her for an instant, but became dejected when she saw Rose's expression. "Oh… you don't like him?"

Rose shook her head. "No, I don't," she said shortly.

"Why not?"

"He did me a great wrong once."

"Mr. Basil? But he'd never do anyone wrong!"

"Well, he did with me."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to!"

"Yes, well, he should have been more careful now, shouldn't he?"

"What did he do to you?"

Rose sighed. "I've got to go." She really did; she was going to get ready for the Jubilee in the kitchen, where she could use the stove to heat up her curling irons. Besides, she did not want to talk about Basil.

"No, wait! Why don't you like Mr. Basil?"

Rose heard something like a loud bang from behind a huge crate. She turned back to the little girl. "I'm sorry!" she said, running off to investigate the source of the bang.

She ran around the crate, only to be met with a strange sight: the thugs were propping up a human gun and bow and arrow. A human axe lay on the ground, and thugs were scrambling around it, trying to set it up again as Ratigan yelled, "YOU IDIOTS! HOW HARD IS IT TO HOLD ONTO THE ROPES? NO ONE WOULD SUSPECT THAT YOU WERE ALL ABOUT TO OVERTHROW THE QUEEN, BEING THE CLUMSY, INCOMPETENT MORONS YOU ARE!"

Rose was thoroughly confused. Fidget hobbled past with a "'Scuse me." He looked horribly tattered, as if he had had a fight with a cheese grater.

"Fidget! What's going on here?" Rose asked.

The bat stopped and looked at her. "Wha'?"

"What is all this?" Rose said, motioning to the weapons being set up. "I don't understand."

"It's Ba-Ba-Basil," Fidget stuttered. "He's ah… on our tail."

"Basil?" Rose felt a surge of anger wash over her. Basil was going to ruin everything for Ratigan!

"Sir!" Rose called, rushing over to the professor. "Sir!"

He stopped yelling for a moment and saw her. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to the Jubilee."

"I am," Rose said, holding up the brown parcel that contained her dress. "But Basil! He hasn't discovered the lair, has he?"

"He hasn't… but he will!" Ratigan said, laughing wickedly. "Isn't it marvelous?"

He was making absolutely no sense to Rose. "But sir, isn't that a… bad thing?"

"Of course it is!" Ratigan shouted rather boisterously. "Of course! It would just ruin _everything!_" He laughed again, appearing as if he was drunk on the news of Basil discovering the lair.

"I don't understand…" Rose began.

"A little to the left! To the LEFT, you meatheads!" Ratigan yelled at his men. Then, aside to Rose, "What is there not to understand?"

Rose frowned. "Why do you want Basil to come here? Tonight, of all nights?"

Ratigan put his hand on her shoulder and steered her towards the weapons that were being set up. "Picture this," he said excitedly, breathing rapidly. "Human weapons: an anvil, a pistol, an axe, a bow and arrow…" He began to outline the whole plan to her, the elaborateness of Basil's execution, all done with mathematical precision and genius. It would be a death fitting the rival of the most brilliant mind in London, the man who had caused the professor so much trouble. "Isn't it marvelous?" he repeated.

"It's amazing," Rose agreed.

Ratigan looked down at the parcel she was holding. "When are you going to the Jubilee?"

"One half hour before you do, sir. I want a good place in the crowd."

"Stay until Basil comes. You can see the show."

"I won't get to the Jubilee in time."

"You can ride in the dirigible."

"That's all right."

He looked surprised. "Don't you want to see Basil's demise?"

"No."

Ratigan shot her a sidelong glance. "Why not?"

She grimaced in reply.

Ratigan sighed. "I forgot. You can't stand watching people die. You're too soft, my dear."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"No you're not. You're only sorry to see people who don't give a damn about you die. Rose, how old are you?"

"Seventeen, sir. Tomorrow's my birthday."

"Really?" Ratigan looked at her. "Eighteen years? Tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Hm." He looked at her neck, where the locket he had given her for her first crime hung. He fingered it gently, a small smile appearing on his lips. "You've been with me for almost one year."

"I know, sir."

He opened the locket for a moment and looked at the small mirror. He opened his mouth, but paused, and then shut it again. He let go of the locket. "Go get ready. I'll show you the trap when you're done."

"I can't wait to see it, sir." She turned to go.

"Don't forget that I want to see you after the Jubilee!" he called after her.

She turned around and grinned. "I won't forget."

* * *

Little did they know the turn Fate was about to give them. If only they had known what was to happen, I am sure Ratigan would not have built so elaborate a trap, or would have made sure that Giovanni did not drug those drinks. Perhaps then those fifteen precious minutes would not have been lost. Maybe he would have left a thug to watch over the victims of the trap. There are so many 'what ifs' that Rose thought about later, so many loopholes they could have plugged up, so many possibilities… after all the potential outcomes, why did it have to happen the way it did?

* * *

Meg: _(typing away at her laptop) _This is getting tough, writing a story that takes place during the movie. I'm forced to follow a timeline that I have never understood. First of all, Olivia goes to Basil the night before the Jubilee, right?

Leigh: Yeah… well, according to the beginning of "The World's Greatest Criminal Mind."

RAEB: _(imitating Ratigan)_ "Tomorrow night our beloved Monarch celebrates her Diamond Jubilee."

Meg: Okay, good, I'm not wrong. All right then, but what about after that? The toy store they went to, the human one, was closed. Obviously they were there at night. So… then where the heck was the next day? I mean, there was too little time from when Basil and Dawson found Fidget's list to when they went to The Rat Trap in the movie to count for at least another twelve hours, right? And we saw Basil _turning up_ a lamp in the movie… so why was that? Was it still night, or was it just a rainy day? WHERE DID ALL THE TIME GO?

Luke: _(to Ratigan)_ You heard her. What happened to all the time?

Ratigan: That's a secret.

Luke: Uh Meg, he says it's-

Meg: _(irritated)_ I HEARD HIM! _(looks at computer screen)_ Oh shoot.

Everyone else: What?

Meg: Erm… you know the name 'Rose McGeady?'

Emma: Yeah.

Meg: Well, McGeady just seemed to fit as a good last name for someone named Rose. You know?

Luke: So?

Meg: Well, ah, yeah… I Googled the name "Rose McGeady", and… I read this book called, "Please Help Me, God," a couple years ago about this Catholic organization called Covenant House that houses children who are abused or homeless. The author of the book is one Sister Mary Rose McGeady.

Emma: I don't get it. What's the problem?

Meg: I inadvertently used a nun's name for Rose's name! I just used a nun's name for my 'evil' main character's name! And Meg Sarentis was going to be a nun, and she is loved by Ratigan and Rose loves Ratigan and… TOO MANY SIMILARITIES! Argh! I _knew _I had heard that name somewhere before!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

* * *

Meg: Sorry it took so long to update. The end of my junior year of high school, track, prom, my trip to France in a week and a half, Luke and other things have delayed me.

Luke: It's not my fault my lung deflated!

Meg: He was in the hospital for awhile, so I had to visit him.

Luke: Yeah, make it sound like I forced you to see me!

Meg: _(sigh) _Well, now I'm updating. Narev, I WANT THAT PHANTOM MERCHANDISE! NOW! My address is-

JWJ: MEG! STOP THIS OBSESSION, RIGHT NOW! It's annoying!

Meg: But I've been obsessed since before the movie.

Luke: We've decided that you can't live without mentioning the Phantom.

Meg: Yes I can!

Luke: Bet you ten bucks you can't.

Meg: Bet you ten bucks I can!

Luke: Fine, no more Phantom/Gerard Butler references.

Meg: Grrrr…

* * *

**June 22, 1897**

**Queen Moustoria's Diamond Jubilee**

Rose allowed herself a small smile as she watched Ratigan read off his list of "suggestions" to the terrified audience, imagining all sorts of evils that would befall them under his rule.

The female henchman had little emotion for them. Her thoughts were consumed with her meeting with Ratigan after the Jubilee. She had almost cried out when she saw the huge list Ratigan was to read to the crowd; it meant that she would have to wait longer to hear what he had to say to her.

He had made eye contact with her when he had first entered as the Queen's new consort. Those yellow eyes were no source of fear… for the moment. They had scanned the crowd, rested upon her, and he had nodded slightly in acknowledgement. Well, she thought he had. It could have been her imagination.

"That's ridiculous! You're insane!" an old man with a bandaged leg, leaning on a crutch, yelled at Ratigan.

Rose snapped back to reality. She winced as Ratigan snatched the crutch away from the old man. "Perhaps I haven't made myself clear…" he said dangerously. "I have the power!" he barked, snapping the crutch in half.

Rose glanced towards the entrance. She could see the legs of one of the thugs who were guarding it, but she did not know who was there. She was suddenly overcome with the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

She fearfully watched Ratigan announce his absolute power to the crowd, with the robot Queen reaffirming it. Besides the fact that a tyrant was beginning his rule, it was just as Ratigan would act. It was his character.

Then why did it feel like everything was about to fall apart?

Rose started to edge closer to the door. She wanted to make sure that everything was all right with one of the guards. Little did she notice the change in the robot Queen, or the fear of the people around her slowly turning into suspicion. It was when the first part sprung off the robot that Rose looked back at Ratigan.

She watched as if she were stuck in some horrible nightmare, as Ratigan tried unsuccessfully to conceal the deteriorating robot. One part, and then another… the crowd's suspicion quickly turning to anger, waiting for the right sign to turn to rage. Rose was pushing her way forward now, trying to somehow stop it all, stop it all…

"YOU ARE A RAT!"

"NOOOO!"

Their sign had come. One shout from the real Queen set the crowd surging upon the professor. Rose tried to fight her way towards him, trying to help, but she found herself being pushed back by the mad mob that had suddenly arisen. She fought fiercely, she was sure, but it seemed like the more she fought, the more she was pummeled back into the crowd, further and further away from her master. It was as if this sea of chaos knew that she was trying to save the drowning rat from the waves of their hatred.

_Professor! You are over there, and here I am, practically being shoved out the door with the rest of the women and children. Oh, if only I could help you! But you are so far away from me. Even the Queen has jumped on you, trying to stop you, trying to drag you down. I would stop them if I could only reach you…_

She felt a strong hand grab her shoulder and pull her out into the hallway.

"Gerald!" she cried.

"What the hell is going on in there?" Gerald, in full guard attire, demanded, trying to look over her shoulder.

"Basil has escaped! The plan has gone to the dogs. We have to help the professor!"

The other thug guarding the door, Doonegan, grabbed Rose by the arm and spun her around. "What're his chances?"

"Not good unless we help him!"

Doonegan spat at her feet. "Let him think his way out of this one," he said with contempt before letting her go and losing himself in the crowd.

Rose looked back at Gerald, only to find that he, too, had disappeared.

Anxiety and anger grew within her as she turned up the stairs. Perhaps she would be able to get backstage from here.

She ran up the steps and around a corner, only to crash into Ratigan, holding the little girl Olivia. Fidget followed close behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ratigan snarled when he realized who it was. He continued running, Rose and Fidget struggling to keep up.

"I was going to help you, sir! But-" she panted, "it looks like you got yourself out of this one!"

"Not yet!" he barked. "Now what do you want, Rose? Why don't you run, like the others? Get far away from me, why don't you?"

"Because I promised I would never leave you!"

They flew up a flight of stairs. "You can't come with me this time!" Ratigan said, breathing heavily.

"Why?" she cried.

"You can't!"

"But why? I was always a good servant! You can't leave me on my own now!"

"This is no longer your battle!"

"What about after all this? You will have lost a good henchman! You will have-" she gasped for breath before she said, "-lost me!"

"Rose…" Ratigan did not say anything until they reached the landing of another set of stairs. "Rose... I… I want you to come. Truly, I do. But Fidget won't be able to-"

"Damn Fidget! Damn you too!" Rose shouted.

Ratigan stopped and stared at her, causing both Rose and Fidget to run into him again. Ratigan caught Rose with his free arm and cursed Fidget, who had knocked into Olivia. Then he looked at Rose, as if seeing her for the first time.

"You remember the valise I told you about? My flat by the docks?" Ratigan asked.

Rose remembered. He had once told her of the room he rented out by the East India Docks in an opium den, run by a Chinese woman and her two sons. It was a place he had prepared for himself long ago as a sanctuary to run to in an emergency. He also had a small valise, which held valuable, irreplaceable papers and articles that he kept in his room by the lair. Rose did not know exactly what these articles consisted of, but she knew the location of the suitcase.

Rose felt a key being pressed into her hands. "Retrieve the valise. Wait for me there. I will join you when I have managed to get rid of Basil."

Rose was in shock. She stared at him in disbelief as he dashed up the stairs.

He turned around at the top to glance back at her. "Did you hear me? Get the hell out of here!"

Rose took a few steps back, as if in a dream. But she could not leave until Ratigan vanished from sight.

* * *

Rose flew through the streets of London, suddenly elated by the wings which Ratigan had lent her in the simple gift of the key. He wanted _her _to go to _his_ hiding place, his secret hiding place! What could it mean? He had entrusted her with his key, his valise, his flat!

But time was of the essence, and she had to get to the lair, get the suitcase, and get back out before Basil or Mouseland Yard came. She was far from safety, and so was Ratigan. But… he could easily get away from Basil, right? Right?

She heard Big Ben toll, and was suddenly struck with an impending sense of doom. She gripped the key and sprinted through the streets with one million thoughts flying through her head. What if Basil captured or killed Ratigan? What if the dirigible crashed and Ratigan died? What if the Yardies were waiting for her at the lair, just waiting for any thug to fall into a trap? What would Ratigan do then, if she could not get the valise? If she let his key fall into their hands?

She reached The Rat Trap and dashed past Giovanni and Millie, who halted the cleaning of the completely wrecked pub from a brawl that had occurred earlier that evening to stare at her (Meg: cough Basil cough). She ran down the trap door, through the pipes, to the barrel through the throne room and the study to Ratigan's chambers. She moved the swinging chest of drawers that concealed the compartment behind it that contained the valise. She grabbed it and ran back out.

She halted in the study and stared at the bookcases. She wanted to take one souvenir with her, something of Ratigan's that would be with her always. Oh, she had the locket and the bracelet, but she wanted something that had a more personal significance. She wanted to take _Jane Eyre_.

She deliberated the fact. She could carry it, but what would Ratigan say when he saw it? She glanced at the shelf, thought over it a bit more.

She thought she heard something from outside the barrel. Was it the police? She ran back out into the throne room and glanced out the entrance. She saw no one in sight.

Rose shook with anxiety and fear. She had come this far. Were they waiting for her out there?

She backtracked until she reached the kitchen door. Slipping through the swinging door, she made her way to the back exit. Silent as the grave, she left the kitchen, the barrel, and the lair, for the path through the sewers.

And so she ran away from her home once more to run off into an uncertain future, but with the hope of Professor Ratigan by her side.

* * *

Meg: I am so cruel to my female characters.

Ratigan: And your brilliant characters.

Meg: Yeah. Poor Basil got a lousy role in this one.

Ratigan: _(growing red in the face)_ I hate fanfic writers…

Meg: Yeah, and we hate overly large, uninvited criminal masterminds eating all my food, using my computer, telephone, and TV, and always trying to kill me and destroy my sanity!

Ratigan: You switched the focus of that sentence from all fanfic writers to you.

Meg: I'm having a "focus on Meg" day for once. I've had a hard time trying to get chapters up.

Ratigan: And they tell me that I am egocentric.

Meg: Hey Ratigan, drop dead.

Ratigan: _(lifts up Meg's laptop)_ Say goodbye to your evil writing machine.

Meg: NOOOOOO!


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

* * *

_(Meg is surrounded by a ton of clothes and toiletries, trying to fit it all into one suitcase and one carry-on bag.)_

Meg: You'd think packing for a ten-day trip wouldn't be this hard! Only one suitcase and one carry-on for a teenage girl's ten-day trip to France? ARE THEY INSANE?

RAEB: What do you need more than one bag for, anyway?

Meg: Erm, clothes, shoes, room for souvenirs in the suitcase…

RAEB: Meg, you've got like… fifteen shirts in there.

Meg: Yeah, so?

RAEB: You're only going to be gone for ten days.

Meg: Weather is unpredictable! I have long-sleeved AND short-sleeved shirts!

RAEB: You're… prepared.

Meg: To the readers: this is the last update on my story before I leave for my trip. Yes, the story is actually supposed to continue after this chapter. This really has turned into a LONG story. Well, Rose needs some sort of resolution. You'll see what I mean.

* * *

Rose made it to Madame Jiang's den without further incident. Getting into the actual flat was the difficult part. At first she went in the wrong door and found herself in a dark room filled with couches, upon which a dozen or more people dazed off into space, their opium pipes hanging limply from their lips or at their sides. The air was close, and Rose was starting to feel somewhat lethargic. Her every movement slowed down, as if she was trying to walk underwater.

She looked around, scanning the room for the landlady. She tripped and fell on a sailor, who hardly blinked and did not even move. She slowly got off of him and continued her search.

"You want a chair?" a female voice with a broken accent said.

Rose turned around in the direction of the voice. A Chinese woman in her early forties, with sharp features and a stern manner stood behind her, arms folded.

Rose shook her head and mumbled, "No."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the girl. "Then what you want, eh? No place for you."

Rose was speechless. She just handed the woman the key to Ratigan's flat.

The woman inspected it. Her eyes grew wide. She looked at Rose, sizing her up, and then around at the patrons in her den. Then she went back to examining the key.

"Where you get this, eh? I never see you before. I don't take in thieves."

"I… I was sent ahead, to prepare his room for him."

The woman regarded her suspiciously. After a moment's deliberation, she grabbed Rose's arm and pulled her away from the customers in the den, up three steps into a small, foul-smelling kitchen, and then to a side hallway. Rose could see a flight of stairs going up into the second story.

"Stay here," the woman commanded, ascending the stairs.

Rose looked around her. The hallway was small; it looked like it was hardly wide enough for Ratigan. There was a small door leading out into the street, and a tattered rug after that. Besides that, and a small window a few feet away from the door, there was plain wall with chipped paint. The only light in the hallway came from the streetlamps across the river, so Rose could not make out what color it was. But she supposed it was not important.

The woman came back down the stairs. "What your name?"

"Eh…" Rose wondered if she should use an alias. "Sarah Rogers."

The woman raised an eyebrow. She slapped the key on the palm of her hand. "When he be here?"

"I don't know."

The woman continued to stare at Rose. She was really starting to get nervous. What if she would not let Rose into the flat?

"Follow me." She went up the stairs again. Rose followed close behind her.

They reached a landing. The woman passed four old, fragile wooden doors to another set of stairs. At the top of this set they found a small landing, with one door.

The woman held the key in front of Rose. "When he come, tell Madame Jiang. Never come back into my den, you hear?" With that, she left.

Rose stared at the key, then at the door. After a few moments she let herself in.

There was a candle lit on the table nearby. Rose set the suitcase down and picked the candle up. She first inspected the door, locked it and then bolted it shut. Then she moved on to the rest of the room.

She saw immediately that it was sparsely furnished. A bed against the opposite wall, a washstand and dresser next to it, the table and one chair, and a stove comprised of all the furniture in the room. There were two windows with the drapes closed. Rose saw nothing else of interest.

She went to the dresser pulling out the drawers in an attempt to make sure that she was in the right flat. This plain room was so different from Ratigan's tastes that she was sure she was in the wrong place. But the drawers were empty. She looked under the dresser, and then under the bed. She even looked in the stove. Nothing. No clue to the owner's character or personality.

Rose sat on the edge of the bed. She looked expectantly at the door, then at her hands.

She reflected that the room had no trace of Ratigan's personality because he did not want anyone who came upon it to know that it belonged to him. Yes. That was it.

Rose fingered the locket nervously. She looked at the 'R' inscribed on it.

She had often wondered what it meant. Ratigan surely did not buy the locket for her. It seemed like he gave it to her on an impulse rather than through planning. So why did it have her first initial on it?

The locket looked rather antique, actually. Perhaps it had belonged to a relative, a sister, perhaps. A friend? A sweetheart?

Rose realized how little she knew of Ratigan's personal past. Perhaps there was someone he was pining for. And maybe she did not fit into his equation.

Maybe he would go to Rachel Dunlap on the dirigible, and leave her here to face the police, or to rot.

Maybe he only wanted to get rid of her.

Maybe she was not worth coming back for.

_Stop it!_

Rose felt so weak and helpless. What would she do if he did not come back?

How could she bear to live?

She lay down on the bed and cried.

* * *

The next morning was dreary. A heavy fog lay upon the city.

Rose did her best to occupy her time, but there was really nothing to be done. The room, so plain and simple, was also painfully sterile, so it did not need to be cleaned. She would never open the valise; it was not hers to go through. She had her dress from the Jubilee still on. A coral pink, Rose knew it would stand out dreadfully on the streets in the East End. She wondered where she could get a replacement.

Rose went to one of the windows and stared out at the street below. She could hear a paperboy from a distance, shouting out recent news. Probably about the Jubilee. She did not want to hear it.

The morning dragged on.

Rose decided around nine o'clock that she would go out. She did not expect Ratigan to be back soon anyway. Perhaps he could not get Basil off his tail yet.

She solved her clothing dilemma by bribing Madame Jiang's youngest son, a boy of fifteen, with the bracelet Ratigan had given her. She had some loose change, but she knew she would need it to buy food if Ratigan did not show up for awhile. The bracelet would look very suspicious to anyone else.

The boy ran off, and Rose returned to her room. Three quarters of an hour later the boy returned with a plain dark brown dress and a black cloak with a hood. It was exactly what Rose needed to blend in with the rest of London.

Twenty minutes later Rose was walking rapidly through the fog, meeting dark, strange faces who paid no attention to her. She watched each face, suddenly afraid of being discovered by someone like Basil… or missing someone like Ratigan.

It started to drizzle. Rose pressed on with rapid steps, towards The Rat Trap. She wondered if she could retrieve her own possessions before the police got there, if they were not already there.

She got within fifty yards of the place before she saw the first Mouseland Yard member. She slipped behind a crab trap and stared through the bars at the activity around the pub.

Some Yardies were standing around talking to each other. A lot of them kept running in and out of the building, while others kept carrying things out of it. Rose watched some reporters talking to a few detectives. She recognized a few familiar Yard faces. Several neighborhood boys stood father away, eyeing the activity with great interest.

Her eyes trailed back to the policemen carrying things out of the pub. She saw a few kegs, a few packed boxes, and then… _her trunk!_

Rose felt her stomach sink. All her ties to her lost home were in that trunk: the two old, ragged dresses Giovanni had left her, as well as her copy of _A Tale of Two Cities. _Not that she needed those things. They were just a part of who she had once been, a past she had once remembered.

As easy as it is to want to forget one's past, it is not always easy for one to go through with forgetting it. You feel as if a part of you has died with that past, a part which can neither be replaced nor restored.

Rose felt as if she had truly lost her identity. That trunk and those articles were no longer hers. Here she was, once again starting anew. Now she was nameless; another face in the crowd, another person taking up space. If she died now, would anyone know? Would anyone care?

_Ratigan cares,_ she told herself. _Ratigan will come to you because he cares for you.

* * *

_She walked along the street, trying to focus on her errands. She needed food for the flat. She wanted only enough to last her a few days, in case she had to leave the hideout in a hurry.

Despite the light rain, there were still quite a few mice roaming the streets in their black coats and umbrellas. Rose joined the crowd, allowing herself to be sucked into it wherever it wished to go.

People talking, breaking off, joining in… Rose hardly paid attention to those around her. She went about her business.

* * *

After leaving a bakery, she found a paperboy crying out the headlines.

"Napolean of Crime fails to take throne at Queen's Jubilee! Basil of Baker Street reveals plot of regicide!"

Rose stopped, curious. She decided that she was now ready to read the accounts of the Jubilee. Perhaps she could get an idea of where Ratigan had headed and when he might come back to the flat.

She approached the boy with money in hand. He handed her a newspaper; she paid him. She folded it up and put it under her arm. She would wait until she got back to the flat to read it.

She had proceeded only a few steps when the boy cried out, "Showdown on top of Big Ben! Ratigan falls to his death!"

Rose stopped dead in her tracks. She took the newspaper in her hands. Moving under an overhanging canopy so the paper would not get wet, she opened it with trembling hands.

CHAOS AT JUBILEE! Ratigan Attempts to Murder Queen! Basil of Baker Street Saves the Day!

Rose read on. Ratigan… robot Queen built by blackmailed toymaker… Basil on the case of kidnapped father… Professor kidnaps daughter and escapes in his dirigible… Showdown on Big Ben… RATIGAN FALLS TO RIVER BELOW!

She was numb with shock. This could not be. He was supposed to meet her back in the flat, his secret hideout… How could this happen?

Rose reread that line. She reread the paragraph. She reread the article up to that line. Then, when it failed to help her, she read the rest of the article.

Basil falls… is saved by his _superior_ genius… no trace of Ratigan found. Experts say there is no chance of survival… most likely died on impact with river, and was washed downstream… Basil to be honored once he recovers from his many wounds…

She gripped the paper. Her vision was blurred from tears that she would not allow to come out. She began to stride quickly, only wanting to go back to the flat, go back and find Ratigan there, waiting for her…

She pushed roughly past people, past the unfamiliar faces, the cold personages who rejoiced in the news that their torment from Ratigan was over, that they were finally safe…

She hurried on. He would be there, he had to be there! What was she to do? How was she to live? How could she go on if he was not there to give meaning to her life?

It was not true, it could not be true!

Rose pressed on with a fury that she did not know herself capable of possessing. People cried out indignantly when she pushed past them. She ignored them, only wanting time to think, to sort out her confusion, to read the paper, and only read of his embarrassment at the Jubilee, not the defeat on top of Big Ben.

In what seemed like years later she was back in the empty flat, standing in the middle of the room with the paper in her hands.

She stared at the Queen, at Basil's smug face. She crunched their faces into a ball.

She cried out like a wounded animal, threw the paper down, and began to kick over the table, the chair, the firewood for the stove. The sheets, the mattress, were ripped off the bed, the empty drawers pulled out of the dresser.

And when she was done several minutes later, she sank to the floor amidst the furniture and the sheets. All her energy was spent. Her head hurt, as if it was in a vice that was slowly being tightened.

Then she saw the valise. It must have opened during her battle with the empty room. A few things were scattered about, but most of the articles remained within the suitcase.

She crawled over to the suitcase, to a leather-bound volume peeking out from amidst the papers and the neatly-pressed shirts and packets of money.

She moved the papers and read the title on the spine:_ Jane Eyre_

He kept this novel in his valise, his emergency valise? What did it mean? He had been Rochester in their coded messages; she had been Jane.

Had he loved her too?

Rose could not take any more surprises. She broke down and wept.

* * *

Lizz: I feel sorry for Rose!

Ratigan: I feel sorry for me! You fan-crazed girls just LOVE to write about that infernal incident called the Diamond Jubilee…

Meg: Awwww, someone's humiliated!

Ratigan: How would you like it if I let your whole school know about these ridiculous stories you write? That you're obsessed with a DISNEY ANIMATED MOVIE?

Meg: Grrr… you sort of got me there. High school isn't the best place to express a love of Disney unless you're wearing one of those tight-fitting T-shirts with Tinker Bell on them that say 'Naughty.' But school's out, so you'll have to wait until my senior year.

Ratigan: Or… _(evil grin)_

Meg: 'Or' what?

Ratigan: That's for me to know and you to find out.

Meg: THAT'S IT! _(grabs passport and luggage)_ I AM GOING TO FRANCE TO GET AWAY FROM YOU! So long, sucker!

Ratigan: Don't forget to write.

Meg: Yeah, I won't forget to write… your death wish!

Ratigan:Hah! I have connections everywhere. You just wait…


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

* * *

_(Meg storms into the room)_

Meg: I have the worst luck ever!

Lizz: Why?

Meg: Because I find out on Friday morning that Tom Cruise proposed to Katie Holmes on top of the Eiffel Tower the day I left Paris for the U.S.!

Emma: And you care because…?

Meg: I really don't know, because I hate celebrities and I'd wish they didn't make such ridiculous amounts of money… but it would have been kind of cool to say, "Yeah, I was in Paris when that happened." But you don't even know the half of what went on while I was in France!

Emma: Like what?

Meg: Keeping reading this story, and the author's notes.

* * *

"_Before man's fall, the rose was born,_

_St. Ambrose says, without the thorn."_

_-Robert Herrick, "The Rose"_

Rose lay on the hardwood floor, staring at the ceiling. She had no idea how long she had been lying there. It could have been hours, or it could have been days.

It was not until the room got noticeably darker that Rose realized that this horrible day had not yet ended.

So many questions had flown through her head. So many ideas. So many schemes, desperate ways to somehow change everything and make it come out all right.

But it would never come out all right.

You cannot change the past. You cannot make people come back from the dead.

Rose realized that it was June 22, 1897. She was eighteen years old.

One year working for Ratigan.

_Before the fall of man, in that Paradise in Eden, all flowers were bright and beauteous. Even the roses were perfect in every way._

_Eden dissolved into the dust. Now there in no rose without a thorn._

And now Ratigan had fallen.

Rose felt lost, hopeless, helpless, miserable, tainted, poisoned, sick…

And alone.

She closed her eyes. She could still hear his voice outlining marvelous schemes in that boisterous way, singing his songs, and telling her stories about the stars…

"You're here," she whispered. She could almost feel him next to her, murmuring his stories to her. "You're here, right beside me. You would never leave me, sir."

She leaned over, reaching out her hand to him. She could almost see his hand, reaching out for hers…

She opened her eyes. The spell was broken: the room was as empty as her soul.

_Oh Professor, why did you leave me? _

* * *

Black, cold, heartless night. Why does misery seem to reach into our very souls at this time? It makes you feel as if the night will never end, and sweet morning will fail to come with new hope and new life.

All she could think was:

_You will never be strong enough_

_You will never rise up again… _

* * *

_Rose… Rose… _

She opened her eyes to a gray room. She could hear a light rain pattering on the roof. Dawn was near.

She had survived the first night.

But how would she be able to survive the next one, and the next, and the next?

She covered her eyes and let out a groan.

_Rose…_

She did not know where to go next. What was left for her? What had happened to the thugs? Or the people at The Rat Trap? Were the police looking for her?

_Rose…_

Of course they were. They, and that horrid Basil of Baker Street. Should she turn herself in, now that crime had nothing left for her?

No. She did not want to give Basil that satisfaction.

_Rose…_

Should she start anew? Impossible. How could she start anew without Ratigan?

She heard a faint moan. "Rose…"

She sat straight up. Ears perked, she listened.

All she could hear were the faraway shouts of sailors.

So then what had been the-

"Rose!" a pained voice cried out dimly.

Rose could not believe her ears. She ran to one of the windows. Pulling up the window, she leaned out and peered down at the ground. She could not see anything.

"Who's there?" she cried.

A dark form by the trash caught her eye as it emitted another moan.

Rose flew across the room, out the door, down the stairs, and all the way out the lodgers' entrance to the figure. It was covered in filth, with misshapen fur and nearly naked, shivering in the drizzle.

She knelt down by it and placed a hand on its hand. The hand weakly tried to raise itself, but dropped to the ground again. She lifted the figure's face towards hers. A pair of yellow eyes stared helplessly back at her. She cried out.

"Sir!"

"Rose," he whispered hoarsely. "Help me…"

"Oh my God, what happened?"

"Basil… bell… I fell… the Thames…" he gasped out, shaking violently.

"Where are you hurt, sir? I can't move you unless I know what injuries you have."

He only let out another cry of pain. Rose decided that she would have to find out herself.

She inspected his body, looking for any obvious injuries. She could see a few puncture wounds on his back, but they were not very deep. His tail, too, was bent in a horribly unnatural way. She touched it lightly, causing him to cry out again. Rose winced.

"Broken!" he hissed through gritted teeth. "Ribs, left arm, tail."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. Can you walk, sir?"

He mumbled out something in reply. Rose looked uneasily about her. The rain could not be good for him. Who knew how long he had been out in it? And what if someone had seen him? She had to get him inside as quickly as possible.

"Come on, sir. I'm going to help you up to the flat," she said firmly to him. He just stared at her.

She bit her lip, trying to think of the best way possible to transport him. After a moment's deliberation, she lifted his right arm and put it over her shoulders.

"You must try to stand up."

* * *

Rose did not know how they did it, but she managed to assist the half-conscious rat up two flights of stairs. By the time they finally reached the flat, Rose could not hold him up any longer. He fell to the floor, giving only a slight groan as Rose partially caught his fall. She gently lifted him down the rest of the way.

She looked around the room, realizing too late that the room was still in disorder from the grief she had had the day before.

"We'll get you on the bed as soon as I put the-" Rose looked back at Ratigan. He had completely passed out. She was relieved. Now she could attend to him without him thinking her a complete idiot.

She decided that she could not lift him on the bed, so she put a pillow underneath his head and covered him with a blanket. She lit the stove and heated some water. While she was waiting for it to get hot she cleaned up the room and made the bed.

Then she took the water and did the best she could to sponge bathe the Professor, trying to pinpoint his wounds.

After a little cleaning he looked a lot more like the man she knew well with all the mud and grime off. But she was greatly surprised and concerned at what she found.

He had many lacerations on his torso and calves. She could not even see his back; he was too heavy for her to turn over. The tail was obviously broken, but the left arm did not look so bad. But Ratigan's fur was clammy; he was pale and sickly-looking. He was also breathing in short, quick breaths, as if he could not get all the oxygen he needed to his lungs.

Rose did not know what to do. She was not a nurse; the only medical experience she had ever had was assisting her mother with her youngest sister's childhood sicknesses.

Had he made it this far only to die?

* * *

Half an hour later Rose could not take it anymore. She shook Ratigan until he woke up.

He glanced at his surroundings in an almost panicked way. Then his eyes rested on Rose. He seemed to relax a little.

"Where… where am I?" he asked hoarsely.

"In your flat, sir," she said, smiling gently at him. "Don't you remember?"

He tried to get up, but gave a short cry of pain. He lay back down again. "I remember that," he muttered. He closed his eyes.

"Sir, you have some injuries that I cannot take care of. A broken arm, broken tail-"

"-My ribs, and my goddamn legs," he finished for her.

"What's wrong with your legs?"

"Can't feel them anymore."

"Do you have a doctor, someone I could go get for you?"

Ratigan opened his eyes. "How many are left, Rose?"

"What?"

"How many of my men? How many didn't get arrested? How many escaped still faithful to me?"

Rose looked at her hands. "I don't know, sir. It might have said in the papers, but I didn't really pay attention to the papers after they said that…" she stopped.

He fixed his yellow eyes on her. "What did the papers say?"

"They said that you were… dead."

"Dead!" he whispered sharply to himself. "They think I'm dead? Basil… thinks I'm dead?" He was silent for a moment. Then, "I don't care what Basil thinks. Rose!"

"Yes, sir?" she asked.

"This could work to our advantage. There's a certain doctor who lives in Southwark Cathedral. Dr. Reinsel's his name. Here's what you must do…"

* * *

The Adventures of Megana in France

(with the girls and teachers who went on the trip with her)

_(The Opera Garnier in Paris)_

Katie: Dude, that is big.

Valerie: Erm, Ms. Boyle and Mrs. Connors are practically drooling.

Lilly: Oh, that's because they're obsessed with Gerard and Patrick.

Meg: The Phantom of the Opera; stealing the hearts of two middle-aged teachers. Well, the heart of one teacher; Raoul stole the heart of the other. Puh-leez!

_(The group goes up to a security guard. Madame Gallatin and the guard speak to each other in French.)_

Madame: We can't do the tour girls. There's a performance tonight, and they don't give tours on days of performances.

Meg: That's disappointing.

Mrs. Connors and Ms. Boyle: WHAT? THEY CAN'T DO THAT!

Madame: We can go into the lobby, though.

_(They go inside, the two teachers sulking.)_

Meg: _(hopping up and down)_ There's the staircase! It looks like how it does in the movie! Oooh, oooh!

Valerie: It's so pretty…

Mrs. Connors: I hate the French! I want to see my Phantom!

Megan: Okay, they're officially insane.

_(Mrs. Connors jumps the rope and runs up the staircase.)_

Security Guard: Arrêtez, Madame! Arrêtez!

Madame: STOP!

Ms. Boyle: _(running after her)_ Get back here, Kathy! Gerard isn't worth it! Madame: Both of you, stop!

_(Security runs after the two teachers, making Madame go with them.)_

Katie: Erm, guys? There's no one here right now.

Erin: Yeah. So?

Katie: Why don't we… take a little tour?

Everyone else: _(grins deviously)_


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty Five

* * *

Meg: _(storms in, screaming)_ I HATE PEOPLE WHO REQUEST PAPER BAGS INSTEAD OF PLASTIC!

RAEB: And what, per say, contributed to that totally random comment?

Meg: STUPID PEOPLE IN GROCERY STORES! DON'T THEY REALIZE THAT IT'S TEN TIMES HARDER TO BAG THINGS IN PAPER INSTEAD OF PLASTIC BAGS?

Lizz: She's back to the three job thing again this summer: two lifeguarding ones and one as a cashier at a grocery store.

JWJ: Haha, Meg can't handle the stress!

Meg: No, I just can't deal with stupid people anymore! How about that? Like old people asking you to kill fifty trees to create paper bags to bag their twenty dollar orders because 'I can't lift anything more than one pound!'

RAEB: Meg, you're turning this into a rant!

Meg: _(stops)_ Oh. Right. Erm, where were we?

Leigh: Back at your lovely story about a really messed-up girl who joins Ratigan's crime chain and falls in love with the rat in question.

Luke: Yeah, the one you've been working on since March?

Meg: Oh. Yeah. Erm… okay, sorry about the lack of updates? BLAME IT ON FRANCE!

Leigh: Why?

Meg: 'Cause I'm broke now, which is why I have so many jobs. _(sighs dreamily) _I'd pay another $3,000 to go back on that trip though…

JWJ: Hey Meg, GET ON WITH THE RETARDED STORY! I've been waiting for this misery to end for months now!

Meg: Okay, okay, sheesh.

* * *

Dr. Reinsel's flat was located within the walls of Southwark Cathedral. It was a neat, tidy apartment, kept clean by a loyal housekeeper.

Rose was shown in to his parlour by the housekeeper and told that the doctor would be with her in a minute. Then she was left alone.

Rose went over everything in her mind that Ratigan had told her to say to the doctor. Reinsel did not know her, and would therefore not trust her. Even if he believed that she was one of Ratigan's thugs, she would still have difficulty assuring him that she was not a pawn for Mouseland Yard. Who would believe that Ratigan had survived such a horrible fall?

The girl had been loath to leave Professor Ratigan at the flat. Madame Jiang had been sent for. She, along with her two sons, had managed to help Rose get Ratigan onto the bed and covered up. Madame Jiang had agreed to watch over her most respected boarder while Rose was away. Still, she could not help but worry. What if he should take a turn for the worse before she got back to him?

Her poor professor!

An older gentleman with graying fur walked into the room. "Yes? May I help you, Miss…?" he asked kindly, trailing off.

Rose took a deep breath, and tried to smile her agitation for Ratigan off to not avail. She dropped the smile, and offered the doctor her hand instead. "Dr. Reinsel, my name is Rose McGeady."

"Miss McGeady. Pleased to meet you. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes. I…" she took another deep breath before proceeding. "There is one thing you know very well, Doctor. I have learned this valuable knowledge from a dear gentleman, a friend of yours: 'What does not kill you only makes you stronger.'"

Reinsel looked at her strangely. "What an odd saying. I don't believe I have heard it before."

"I believe that you have, Doctor. And 'If it has killed you, then your life was of no value in the first place.'"

"Just like…?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Just like Romeo and Juliet, Doctor."

"Romeo and Juliet? That's it?"

She frowned. "Yes, it is. They sacrificed their own lives because they thought the other one was dead. They would not let the lost of their loved one make them stronger."

"True… but what about someone else killed by strife… such as Judas Iscariot?"

Ratigan had not mentioned this part of the code… unless the doctor did not trust her? Well, that was obvious.

"He was killed, some would argue, as a part of God's divine plan," Rose retorted.

Reinsel gave a short laugh. "Hah! Aren't we all? What foolishness… Silly saying, isn't it? Pity…" He broke off, looking very pensive.

"So if you will come with me, Doctor-"

"Come with you? Where?"

"Why, I… well, you know…"

"I know what?" he asked.

"Well, ah…"

She felt her confidence leave her. All she wanted to do was leave. But then she thought of Ratigan.

"Dr. Reinsel, you have to help him! He's going to die!"

"Who's going to die?"

"You know who! The only one who knows that saying besides you!"

"Miss… excuse me, I have forgotten your name already."

"McGeady. Rose McGeady."

Reinsel gave a start. He appeared to be studying her for a few minutes. Finally he picked up a newspaper and skimmed it over.

"'…Of the accomplices to this heinous act of treason,'" he read, "'only five are unaccounted for: Jack Doonegan, a wanted Dublin drug trafficker; Gerald Caster, wanted by the Yard for years for minor burglaries and a long alliance with Professor Ratigan; Fidget, a peg-legged bat with a crippled wing, one of Ratigan's most trusted lackeys; Bill Repper, another burglar and pickpocket; and Rose McGeady, 'personal' assistant to the Professor…'" The doctor grinned mischievously. "I guess fidelity does not hold up while being questioned by a Mouseland Yard official. There's a full paragraph devoted to each of the escapees, information given courtesy of your captured pals. Want me to read yours?"

Rose folded her arms and glared at him. "No, thank you."

Reinsel chuckled. "And you came here. Why?"

Rose decided that she would have to improvise now. "He survived the fall from Big Ben. I don't know how; he won't tell me. But he somehow managed to drag himself to his emergency flat, where I was waiting for him. He's in bad shape; he'll die if he doesn't receive immediate medical attention! He referred me to you; you're the only one we can trust now!"

"Hm! If I had any sense I'd send for Mouseland Yard right now."

"What?" Rose felt that she was losing miserably. She was growing desperate. "Don't you care at all?" she cried.

Reinsel shook his head. "First of all, I don't know who or what you're talking about," he said firmly. "Secondly, I don't want to know. I suggest you leave before I call the police on you."

Desperate times call for desperate measures. She threw herself at the doctor's feet, shouting, "Oh, in Heaven's name, save him!"

"Hah! You, calling out in Heaven's name?" the doctor scoffed. "It's laughable!"

"Oh, damn you! Damn you, and Basil and everyone else!"

"No need to get as dramatic as all that," Reinsel laughed.

Rose wrung her hands. "Oh, please help us! Help me," she said softly. "I can't nurse him, I can't help him. Please, I beg of you! Help us!"

"Us?" Reinsel raised an eyebrow. He then looked back at the newspaper. "How loyal were you to this Professor?"

"What?"

"How loyal _were_ you to the Professor?" he repeated, emphasizing on 'were'. "Where did your relationship lie?"

"Why… why, he is… I mean, was… my master. And I… his servant."

"Hm." Reinsel gave her a peculiar look. He glanced at the newspaper, and then back at her. She was growing nervous. Finally he tossed the paper aside. "Never mind all that. You have pen and paper?"

"No. Why?"

The doctor gave an exasperated sigh. "Any type of paper?"

Rose reached into her pocket and pulled out the slip of paper that she had written the doctor's address upon. She handed it to him.

"Good." He handed it back to her, along with a pen. "Now write this: 'Lorelei is deathly ill. You must come quickly.'"

Rose did as she was told. As soon as she was done he snatched the paper it out of her hands and put it in his pocket.

She laid the pen down on his desk, only to be told to keep it.

Reinsel grabbed his medical bag. He put on his hat and coat. Then, turning to Rose, he said, "All right missy, let's go visit Lorelei."

* * *

When they walked outside, Reinsel made Rose call a cab, and told her to have it take them directly to Ratigan's flat, instead of a block away as she would normally be accustomed to do. Then, when they got into the cab, he made her pull the shades down over the windows. When Rose asked why, he just retorted, "Any questions, and I'm leaving you here and now."

Then, when they finally arrived back at Madame Jiang's den, Reinsel instructed her to let him go first, and follow as quickly behind him as possible, shoving him, not once leaving a gap between them.

Rose was unnerved. She had never been ordered about so much in her life (well, perhaps with the exception of her mother) and asked to do such odd things. But she complied anyway, knowing that Ratigan's life depended on it.

Now, so the reader will not be confused, I will explain all of Reinsel's actions to you.

Reinsel was suspicious. Many of Ratigan's thugs captured by the Yard had turned traitor on their own chums with the promise of easier sentences. The doctor had reason to worry that he, too, had been betrayed by one of the thugs. He had good reason to believe that he was being led into a trap. To him, Rose could have easily made up the whole story about Ratigan being still alive just to lure him into this trap.

The note he made Rose write, the one about Lorelei, was supposed to give the police (if, indeed, he was being led into a trap set up by the Yard) evidence that Rose had lied to him about the reasons for his assistance. Lorelei was his niece at a young girls' boarding school; he would naturally run off to help her if she ever were ill. Reinsel had the evidence; he had the letter safe within his possession, and Rose had the pen with which the letter was written with.

The cab had to pull up to the location they were bound for so there would be no reason for him not to "escape" when he supposedly realized that he was not being taken to the boarding school. Rose had to pull the shades down to make it look like that she did want him to know in which direction the cab was headed. Then, as they got out of the cab, he wanted it to look like Rose was forcing him into the den, rather than him being led in voluntarily.

All this Rose would not understand until later. All she knew as she carried these actions out was that she had to obey.

* * *

She led Reinsel into the flat. Madame Jiang jumped up from her chair by the side of the bed.

Seeing Ratigan, the doctor immediately set himself at ease. "So, you were telling the truth," Reinsel said to Rose.

"Of course," she said rather crossly. "He's terribly hurt. Can you help him now?"

"All right. Let's have a look." Reinsel pulled the covers off Ratigan's shivering, unconscious form, and began to inspect him.

"How is he?" Rose asked Madame Jiang cautiously.

She shook her head. "He sleep bad. Say things in sleep. Bad thoughts, very bad thoughts."

"Bad thoughts, eh?" Reinsel interrupted. "Probably from the shock. You say he really did fall off Big Ben? And lived to tell about it?"

"Well…" Rose bit her lip. "He's been barely conscious since I found him two hours ago. He only managed to tell me that he had fallen, nothing more."

Rose fell silent, watching the doctor as he turned the rat on his side to see what damage had been done to his back. She bit her lip, wishing that this nightmare was over, that Ratigan was well again.

The doctor laid him back on his back. "He had several serious injuries; nothing immediately life threatening, except perhaps the aftershock of his experience. Are you any good at assisting a doctor, missy?"

"When the occasion calls for it," she said with a lot less confidence than she had hoped to convey.

Reinsel frowned. "Well, the occasion calls for it, so you better pull yourself together, young lady."

"What need you her for, eh?" Madame Jiang said, folding her arms. "I help plenty. Madame Jiang a… a… what the word for it?"

"Nurse?"

"Yes, that it! Nurse! I nurse very very good to save sir."

"Then you assist me," he said, opening his bag.

"What can I do?" Rose asked anxiously.

"Stay out of the way," Reinsel said sharply.

* * *

Rose resented it, not being able to help. She watched enviously as Madame Jiang ran about, getting bandages and helping the doctor set the broken arm and tail. There was nothing to occupy her mind, nothing to focus her attention on. Thoughts of losing the Ratigan again kept creeping into her head. All she could do was bite her nails as she watched the doctor and the Chinese woman aid her dear professor. She was going crazy with panic and worry.

Ratigan now seemed to be in some state of conscious. His eyes had flickered a few times, and he had said a few incomprehensible words to no one in particular as Reinsel worked on him.

It was while Reinsel was cleaning the lacerations on the professor's abdomen that Ratigan gave an almost beastly cry of pain. He arched his back and his good arm flew out and struck the doctor clear across the chest, the force of the blow sending Reinsel stumbling into the wall, next to the head of the bed. But it appeared that this was all Ratigan had the strength for, for he collapsed onto the bed again, panting.

Rose jumped up and ran over to the side of the bed, making sure to keep out of reach of any more blows. Madame Jiang had retreated to the door, looking as if she would bolt out of the room at any more signs of violence.

Reinsel stared with wide eyes at the rat, gasping for air. "He… he could have killed me, if he had been a bit stronger…"

"Dangerous man, very dangerous…" Madame Jiang muttered, glancing from the doctor to the rat to the door.

Rose stared at Ratigan's face. His eyes were open. "Professor? Professor Ratigan?" she said softly.

He continued to stare ahead, oblivious to her presence.

Rose opened her mouth to speak again, but before the words could come out Reinsel said, "Well Madame Jiang, let us get back to work. He is still very much in danger of infection."

Madame Jiang looked scared out of her wits. "No, no, Madame Jiang do not go back there!"

Reinsel gave her an exasperated look. He stared back at Ratigan for a moment, and then with a fierceness Rose would not have expected in him, he grabbed the Chinese woman's arm and snarled, "You promised to complete this task. Now do it!"

Madame Jiang pushed herself away from him, but cautiously approached the bed once again.

Rose went around on the other side of the bed, wondering what would happen next.

Reinsel held up the alcohol-soaked cloth he was using to clean the wounds. He touched on of the long, thick lacerations once again.

Ratigan howled again and thrashed about on the bed, causing the three of them to back away as quickly as possible. He was slightly foaming at the mouth and snarling in a low, almost demonic voice, "Away, you hear me! You won't get me this time, you won't have me this time! I'll kill you!"

"He mad, like a dog!" Madame Jiang cried.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill myself! But-" here he gave a laugh belonging to one possessed, "you won't have me for yourselves!"

"He's too weak to attack… unless we get too close," Reinsel said warily. "But those wounds… they'll be infected unless I can get to them." He looked uneasy. "He needs to be tied down."

Ratigan had calmed down somewhat, but now it appeared that his sickly brain had registered the presence of the people on the right side of the bed, Madame Jiang and Dr. Reinsel. He appeared to be studying them suspiciously.

Reinsel turned white. He took one step forward, saying as gently as possible, "James, it's me, your old friend, Jason Reinsel…"

"Stay away!" Ratigan barked, causing Reinsel to jump back again. "I'll kill you if you come near me…"

Reinsel looked helplessly at the rat, then at Madame Jiang. Finally his gaze turned towards Rose.

"I cannot help him. That fall must have jiggered something in his brain. He's unstable, and he may only get worse as time comes on…"

"But he needs help!"

"Oh, he needs help all right!" Reinsel retorted. "If his wounds get infected, he'll probably go stark raving mad! He needs an asylum!"

Rose bit her lip. It was just like his periodic fits of madness she had seen only too often in the sewers. Perhaps it was an aftershock of the fall. But how to cure it?

"Professor?" Rose said softly, nervously, taking a step towards the rat. "Professor Ratigan?"

Ratigan turned his mad gaze upon her, as if noticing her for the first time.

"Who're you? Stay away from me…" he warned.

"Sir, it's me, Rose. Rose McGeady. You know me, sir, you've known me for well over a year…" she said, taking another step towards him.

He recoiled, and then growled at her, "Don't you dare do it…. I'll rip you to shreds…"

"Don't!" Madame Jiang gasped hoarsely.

She took another step near him, this time taking off the silver locket. She then took another step near him, holding out the locket in front of her, as if shielding herself from his violent madness.

Ratigan looked panicked; beads of sweat were trickling from his forehead. "I'll kill you… I don't care if you're a phantom, I'll kill you with my bare hands…"

She leaned over, holding the locket high above his face. "I have something to show you, sir," she said, her voice a little shaky.

"Don't! I don't want to see! I don't want to see!"

Rose lowered the locket down gradually, watching as he squirmed about on the bed, as if expecting a guillotine to descend from her outstretched hand. She did not breathe, but only continued to lower the locket.

It was inches from his face. He froze, staring at the object in front of him.

The silence, the calm, was unnerving to Rose. But she held her hand steady. The locket had saved her once: she was almost certain that it would save her again.

Ratigan raised his hand towards it. Then in one rapid movement he ripped the locket out of Rose's grasp and flung it away, reaching for Rose's neck in another movement and shoving her roughly, but with considerable effort, away from him. She fell back and hit the floor.

Ratigan attempted to get up, but yelled out in pain. He then tried to roll himself off the bed.

Rose got to her feet and watched, amazed, as he managed to turn himself on the right side of his body. Using his good arm, he began to push so that his whole body would roll over.

Rose made a bounding leap to the bed, placed her hands on his chest, and shoved him back down into place before he could complete the turn and fall to the floor. She then looked down into the Professor's face.

He looked so lost, scared, helpless, powerless, and alone. His eyes seemed to be pleading with her to save him from his own tortured soul.

"Sir," Rose breathed softly, gently to him, "Sir, it's all right. It's me, it's Rose. Your faithful servant. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll never forsake you."

And, to reassure him, she leaned over and gave his good hand a quick squeeze.

He stiffened at her touch at first, but then relaxed. Rose looked up at his eyes. He was staring at her wonderingly, as if he did not know how she got there.

"Are you all right, sir?" Rose asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. She could feel his forehead, hot and feverish.

"You…? How? You left… gone… far away…" he muttered, still gazing at her. Then he looked around the room, and saw Reinsel and Madame Jiang standing there, staring at them.

"You insane old quack," he murmured.

Rose did not know who he was talking to until Reinsel replied half-teasingly, "I wouldn't talking, James. You're the idiot that decided to addle your already backward brain with that lovely dive into the Thames."

"Well, then what the hell are you standing there for then?" Ratigan said hoarsely, forcing a short laugh. "Fix me up, you asshole!"

"All in good time, my battered colleague. And Miss McGeady…" Reinsel motioned for her.

She glanced at Ratigan, who was giving Reinsel a questioning look. She patted his good arm, got up and approached the doctor.

Reinsel turned away from the rat. "Distract him," he said softly. "Talk to him, read to him, whatever. I think it'll spring up again unless he's got something else to concentrate upon."

Rose nodded. She wordlessly went over to Ratigan's valise, opened it, and pulled out _Jane Eyre._ Then, dragging a chair with her, she pulled it up to the bed.

"Sir, would you mind if I read to you for a bit?"

Ratigan seemed to comprehend what had been said between her and the doctor. "I'd greatly appreciate that," he said in a husky voice.

Rose opened the book to the first page, cleared her throat, and began: "'There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner…'"

Ratigan closed his eyes. Rose continued to read, a feeling of peace and contentment washing over her as Dr. Reinsel and Madame Jiang once more applied themselves to the task of cleaning Ratigan's wounds. This time he only gave a slight gasp of pain.

"'_Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls,_

_Boils round the naked, melancholy isles_

_Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge-'"_

Rose paused and glanced at Ratigan. He half-opened his eyes at her hesitation, as if to ask why she had stopped.

"'_-Pours in among the stormy Hebrides,'"_ she continued. "'Nor could I pass unnoticed…'"

In her heart she knew that everything was going to be all right. How could anything go wrong, now that the worst was over?

* * *

The Adventures of Megana in France

_(Many echoing footsteps are heard, as if a group of people are walking on stone.)_

Katherine: Um, guys? I can't see a thing.

Amy: Where are we?

Kaitlyn: It's cold down here.

Sam: Let's leave!

Megan: We can't go back! The gendarmes will see us!

Erin: Someone remind me not to hide from the police in unknown passageways that have no lighting ever again!

Valerie: So much for "taking a tour of the Opera House," Katie! Now we're lost!

Katie: Hey, you all didn't have to agree to it!

Megan: Look, I feel steps! Maybe we can get out of here!

Ashley: They go downward.

Lilly: We better try them. We can't go back the way we came. Those policemen will see us!

_(More echoing footsteps)_

Katie: Weird steps! I'm going to fall!

Meg: Hah! It's that part in the movie, when the Phantom's leading her down to his lair! _(sighs) _I wish I was Christine! _(singing softly) _"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came…"

Megan: Dude, be quiet! Someone might be down here!

Meg: Like… Erik!

Valerie: Your sister wasn't lying, you _are _obsessed!

Meg: Grrr. _(goes to a deeper voice) _"Sing once again with me, our strange duet…. My power over you-"

Erin: Stop, now! You really sound like a guy!

Meg: _(still singing) _"And though you turn from me, to glance behind… the Phantom of the Opera is there-"

_(A yelp and a splash are heard.)_

Meg: _(sputtering)_ Gah! Gah! Cold water, freezing cold! Gah! I think I found the underground lake!

Megan: Underground lake? I thought that was something the movie made up!

Katie: Erm, no. One actually does exist.

Meg: I'm freezing!

_(Suddenly a light goes on, revealing the ten girls on the edge of the lake, Meg treading water in the lake, and one cloaked figure.)_

Lilly: Guys… RUN AWAY!


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six

* * *

_(Meg is reading a book.)_

JWJ: _(pulling Ratigan in) _Look, look, see! I told you so!

Ratigan: _(hesitates)_ Meg, what are you reading?

Meg: _(looking up) _Plato's _The Republic._

Ratigan: _(glaring)_ Are you trying to mock intelligent people?

Meg: Hey, don't get mad at me. I wouldn't be reading this if it weren't for my evil English teacher. Reading intellectual works by Greek philosophers just isn't my thing. But I must say the allegory of the cave is pretty good.

Ratigan: _(shaking his head) _The distance you'll go to insult anyone of any original thinking.

Meg: You're just angry because I'm taking a college level English course.

Ratigan: As a matter of fact, I am. What makes you think you're so smart, you little ignorant brat?

Meg: If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Ratigan: Don't use clichés. It's very unprofessional.

Meg: Yeah, well don't use the word 'very'. It's redundant.

Ratigan: In a literary piece of work, not speech! And what would you know of redundancy? Just look at those little sob stories you write. All of them are unnecessary, unoriginal, and redundant!

Meg: If you really hate my stories so much, then why don't you use your "superior knowledge" to help me write better stories?

Ratigan: Superior knowledge shouldn't be wasted on those who won't put it to any use.

Meg: _(waving her book in the air)_ Plato didn't seem to think so. _(reads) _"…the business of us who are the founders of the State will be to compel the best minds to attain that knowledge which we have already shown to be the greatest of all — they must continue to ascend until they arrive at the good; but when they have ascended and seen enough we must not allow them to do as they do now… they must be made to descend again among the prisoners in the den, and partake of their labours and honours, whether they are worth having or not." In other words, my dear Professor, they must TEACH THE IGNORANT TO NOT BE IGNORANT ANYMORE, NO MATTER WHAT! Otherwise, the goal of attaining an ideal State could never be reached.

Ratigan: I would do so if my ultimate aim was not for the downfall of the State.

Meg: You have a point. All right, be a moron; don't use your brains for the common good.

Ratigan: All right then. _(walks away)_

Meg: Hey, don't walk away!

_(He ignores her)_

Meg: Fine, walk away from a philosophical debate! You're the ignorant one, not me!

JWJ: What are you talking about? He disproved your point.

Meg: _(sighs) _I know.

* * *

Rose was wrong: the worst was not over.

Ratigan's brief episode was the first of a series of violent fits that would spring up at the most unexpected times. They occurred in rain or shine, daytime or nighttime. Rose hardly ever left the flat; she was always at Ratigan's side, either reading to him or holding him down when he screamed about the horrors he lived in his sick mind.

She barely slept. The professor had usually fallen into these moods when it rained; and now it seemed as if, in this summer season, that all of London was forever weeping. The rain pounded ceaselessly on the roof, the thunder just barely blocking out his screams. He was too weak to move or attack anyone, and grew weaker and weaker as the days and weeks dragged on…

Reinsel helped Rose a good deal in the beginning; he came every day to see how the Napoleon of Crime was doing. But as Ratigan's health and sanity diminished, Reinsel's visits were less frequent. Sometimes Rose thought she would kill herself before Reinsel would come again with the sedatives that would relieve the professor for at least a few hours.

* * *

One visit, after the doctor had given Ratigan a dosage of morphine, he pulled Rose aside.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked.

"I don't remember," she said quietly.

"You look horrible."

Rose shrugged.

Reinsel glanced at the patient, and then said, "Why are you still here?"

Rose gave him an annoyed look. "He's helpless!"

"Why don't you turn him in? Or better yet, just walk away?"

"I will do no such thing!"

"Why? What are you getting out of this? You look as if you are wasting away; you haven't left this room in weeks. He's only getting worse."

"That's not true!" she said heatedly.

"_Little girl_!" Reinsel barked at her. She glared at him. "He's weak. He won't eat; he spends hours on end raving about things no one else can see. I doubt he'll make it through the week. Perhaps it would be better if he didn't make it…"

"WHAT?"

"I could give him a stronger dose of morphine… it would be quick, painless-"

"NO! I am not going to let you kill him!"

Reinsel sighed. "All right. Say he doesn't die. Say he somehow miraculously gets better. What if the insanity comes back?"

"He wouldn't dare hurt me. I've been so loyal to him!"

Reinsel smirked. "Haven't you read the papers? An account of the battle between Ratigan and Basil of Baker Street was just printed, written by a man who was there, one David Q. Dawson. Your professor was rather cool and collected throughout the chase, according to what Basil told this Dawson fellow. That is, until he suddenly _snapped_… he assaulted Basil and threw himself at him, causing both of them to fall off the clock tower."

"I've read the accounts!" Rose snapped. But inside she was worried. It sounded just like his madness, except on Big Ben, he had seemed to turn into some sort of wild, savage creature. Could it happen again?

"If he does survive, you're not going to," Reinsel finished firmly.

She looked at the floor.

"Miss McGeady, you have no obligation to take care of him. You can walk away. Get away from here. Just don't ruin your life by staying with this… this _creature._"

She gazed at Ratigan, his mouth open, staring with glazed eyes at the ceiling.

"There will be other men in your life, you know."

Rose looked at Reinsel, speechless. He picked up his bag.

"I felt obliged to warn you. Do as you please; it is none of my business what silly girls do with their lives."

He headed to the door.

"Are you leaving us for good?" Rose finally found voice to say.

He stopped at the door, and looked back at her. "This is the end, Miss McGeady. The rest is up to him." Then, more to himself than to her, he said, "God protect you, little girl."

* * *

Rose sat on the hard chair, staring dumbly at Ratigan. He was too weak to move, but had enough strength in him to moan.

She looked at the open copy of _Jane Eyre_ in her lap. She was sick of this book, sick of the sleepless nights, sick of the anxiety of having to deal with a dead body, sick of everything! If only he would get better…

…_or give up._

Rose snapped the book shut. Such thoughts were not going to get her through this ordeal. She had to focus on the positive. Ratigan was going to get better. The rain would stop. He would gain strength, all the while formulating a plan for the uncertain future. Perhaps he would start up a new crime chain. Perhaps he would retire from his reign as the Napoleon of Crime and decide to live a quite life. Maybe he would go to the country. And maybe Rose could cook and clean for him, as she had done before.

Or maybe he would die. Maybe even tonight.

Rose traced the gold lettering on the front of the book with her index finger. All she wanted was for it to end. The sickness, or his life, something had to end soon. She was going insane with all this waiting.

Reinsel's words were haunting her: "…_you have no obligation to take care of him. You can walk away… don't ruin your life by staying with this… this creature."_

She got up and sidled over to the bed. He had stopped moving. His eyes were closed, his face sweaty and feverish. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she gently took Ratigan's large, once strong hand into her small one. She began to trace the lines on his hand as she had traced the lettering on the book.

"Please get better," she said quietly. Then, with downcast eyes, she said, "I don't have any family. I don't have any friends. I doubt that I have much honor left. I eventually sacrificed all that for you. But you don't even know that I'm here, do you?"

Her eyes fell on his face. Nothing had changed.

"And what was I expecting?" she asked herself aloud. "Some miraculous recovery? Some sort of deathbed confession from you? You can hardly even breathe, let alone say anything to me. What have you to say? Have you ever had anything to say to me? Or have I been alone in my thoughts, in my feelings for you?"

She reached out and touched his cheek. It was hot and sticky with perspiration.

"You could do without your little Rose, but I fear that little Rose has never been able to do without you. Not since you took her into the sewers, not since you exposed her to the worst this world has to offer, not since you took away her innocence. There is not much left in her, and it is mostly because of you."

She paused. A new thought had occurred to her.

"No. It is not because of you. You were only a tool to her degradation. She was the one who put herself in your power. You have nothing to boast of there."

As she spoke these words, she realized that all she said was true. She had been the one to accept crime over death, immorality over salvation. And now, because of it, she was sitting here, alone in the world except for this expiring man before her.

"But, after all, if I could… would I change it? Would I have stopped that stubborn, hot-headed girl storming out of her flat in Exeter, so eager to make a point? Would I have extinguished that pride that led her to stay at The Rat Trap for so long? Would I have stood bravely before the bullet of the gun that would have ended her short life?"

Rose tried to imagine her life after Exeter, before the sewers. She tried to imagine where she would be now. She thought of Scarlet, of Millie, of Giovanni, of Doonegan and Fidget and Gerald, and Basil of Baker Street and America and the Queen and the Boss, of Scarlet… Scarlet… Elaine McGeady…

"No. No, I wouldn't have changed anything. Not even my affections for you. What were you going to say to me on the night of the Jubilee? What were you going to say?"

Rose gave a dry sob. "Please…" she moaned. "Please, don't leave me here alone! Where will I go when you are gone?"

* * *

A restless night for Rose dawned in a picturesque morning for the rest of London. She checked on the patient. He seemed the same as before.

Another day dragged on, leading to another night, and another day, and another night…

It was not until the morning of the third day that Rose realized that the fever had subsided, that the moans he now gave for commands for nourishment, that he was no longer muttering nonsense to himself but requesting knowledge of his surroundings, of his condition.

All was as well as Rose could have hoped for.

* * *

The Adventures of Megana in France

_(A couple of panicked metro rides later, the girls end up at the Louvre.)_

Valerie: _(looking warily behind the group)_ Did we lose him?

Lilly: _(gasping) _Think so.

Katie: Okay, who was that?

Amy: Eh…

Katherine: So what's the plan?

Everyone: _(shrugs)_

Ashley: Hey, we're at the Louvre! Let's go see the Mona Lisa!

Sam: Great idea!

Megan: _(grabbing Meg's arm) _Oooh, look! A bathroom!

Meg: I went before we left the hotel.

Megan: No! Langdon and Sophie hid from the police in a bathroom in the Louvre! Ooh, let's go see it!

Meg: That was a men's bathroom near the Mona Lisa, Megan! We're not going near a men's bathroom!

Megan: _(pulling her)_ Oh, come on!


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

* * *

The Adventures of Megana in France

_(Megan and Meg are standing in front of the Crown Jewels at the Louvre)_

Megan: Wow, look at the size of those rocks!

Meg: That's sick.

Megan: I want them!

Meg: Yeah, but how could you wear them?

Megan: But they're so cool!

Meg: I know. I'd wear that sapphire crown… it's so amazing!

_(Later, as they're being shoved around the massive crowd surrounding the Mona Lisa…)_

Random person: _(pointing to Meg)_ Thief! Thief!

Meg: Huh?

_(Meg is tackled by security)

* * *

_It was well into the month of August. Ratigan was getting much better. His health and strength had increased over the past few weeks. He read as many accounts as he could of the Jubilee, angering him as well as giving him fuel for revenge. The war was not yet over; Basil could still be bested.

Rose was inwardly overjoyed. She knew that with his ambitions for revenge, he would require her help. She would have a place to go, a person who would take care of her.

He could walk with the aid of a cane, although it caused him much pain. He was getting restless in the small flat.

Rose sensed that the change in their lives would come soon.

* * *

"When are we going to leave?" Rose ventured to ask him one day.

Ratigan peered at her from over the train timetable he had been looking at. "Leave?"

"Yes, sir. We can't stay in this flat forever. It's rather crowded, and certainly not a good place to start anew."

Ratigan chuckled. "You want to start anew? You want to get yourself involved with my schemes all over again?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Why would you?" Ratigan asked sharply. "When you first joined me, it took you months to become fully loyal to me. Now that I have nothing, you want to go through the struggle of building everything back up?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because… because I don't have anything else."

He leaned back in his chair. "If there was something else for you, would you leave?"

Rose cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"This cannot be what you really want to do with the rest of your life, Rose. Hiding from the authorities, from any decent society, and for what? Aren't you afraid of failure?"

She looked into his yellow eyes. They were not angry, just curious.

"No, sir."

He seemed to be studying her. "Aren't you afraid of anything? Getting caught? Prison? Execution?"

"Well, yes, I am." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "But not for the reasons you would think I was afraid of them!"

"Oh, really? Then, for what reasons, pray tell, would you be afraid of them."

"Because I would lose you, sir."

A heavy silence fell in the room that lasted for several long moments. Finally it was broken by the distant toll of Big Ben, causing Ratigan to wince. He cleared his throat.

"I see that you've become rather attached to me."

She could not read the expression in his eyes. "You've been so good to me, sir-"

"Good to you? Hah! You're still so ignorant, Rose! If I've been good to you, then I suppose you would have considered the Athenians to have been just to Socrates when he was put on trial."

Rose did not know anything about Socrates. "You're much too hard on yourself, sir."

"Or you're too easy on me. You are really an enigma to me, Rose. Most people would have turned a half-drowned ra-, hem, criminal mastermind, into Mouseland Yard. But not you. Why?"

"I don't know," she said, growing uneasy.

"You choose exile over freedom? I could just have easily died. You could have killed me, and rid yourself of my burden. So why didn't you?"

"I don't know," she said, feeling more agitated.

"I can see that you do. What I cannot see is any logical reason for you to stay so loyal to me, even when all appeared hopeless. Why is this, Rose? Were you hoping for some sort of payment?"

"No, I wasn't!" she said rather crossly.

"Perhaps some of my money, or my connections?"

"I have no use for your money!"

"You were certainly expecting something in return. What was it, Rose? What did you want? What do you want now?"

"I want your love!" she cried.

A silence, worse than the brief one earlier, now reigned. Rose cursed herself ten thousand times over for her sudden outburst of emotion. She could not read any reaction in those yellow eyes. She reverted her gaze to her lap, and pretended to be smoothing her skirt as she waited for any sort of response.

Finally she heard him get up from his chair. She looked up. He began to walk towards the window in slow, measured steps. He finally reached the curtain. Lifting it gently, he glanced at the outside world. He then let the curtain drop.

"You're a silly girl."

She had not expected this sort of response. "Sir?"

"Yes. I've never met such a strange girl as yourself."

She pushed her chair back and stood up. "You think me strange?" she asked indignantly.

He turned back towards her. "What is this? You're not accustomed to wearing your emotions on your sleeve, as you are now!"

"You don't believe me," she said in disbelief.

Ratigan laughed, making Rose grow red with embarrassment. "Now it all makes sense to me! Your outstanding loyalty to me, even when it would have been in your best interest to completely disown all that I have striven to accomplish. And when did this all start?"

"Don't laugh at me, sir. It's incredibly rude," she said sourly.

He stopped chuckling, but his eyes glimmered with amusement. "Oh, don't pout. Look, see, now I am serious, and ready to listen. When did this… this infatuation for me begin?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself! You're rude and teasing and… and… mean!"

She expected to hear him laugh again, but heard nothing.

Rose gripped the back of her chair and stared at the ground. "I don't know. It just happened."

"Come here."

She looked up at his figure. "Sir?"

"Come here."

She slowly approached him. He rested his hand on her shoulder and pulled her towards him.

"I have a strange feeling towards you, Rose. One would wonder what it was…" He lifted her chin up. "Is it something stronger than amity? Is it that emotion abused by the ages, a word that has been analyzed, dissected, and torn apart, an ideal powerful enough to bring about the downfall of whole kingdoms, and give unprecedented strength to those who feel it?"

His lips met her lips, and she felt herself melting away into pure bliss.

* * *

Emma: So them what happened to you when you got arrested?

JWJ: She got arrested _again?_

Meg: Unfortunately.

JWJ: What'd you do, try to assassinate George W. Bush just to prove your point about Tecumseh's curse?

Meg: NO! That would disprove my point about Tecumseh's curse!

Luke: So then why were you arrested?

Meg: Ratigan hired some guy to steal the Empress Josephine's emerald necklace or something and put it in my purse while we were in that mob in front of the Mona Lisa.

Emma: So what happened?

Meg: _(shrugs) _Madame, Ms. Boyle, and Mrs. Connors were already at the police station. Madame somehow managed to straighten it out for me. Still not really sure how.

Emma: Ratigan must really not have a life. All he does is play pranks on you. It's really getting old.

Meg: Tell me about it.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

* * *

_(Meg is muttering angrily to herself)_

RAEB: What's wrong?

Meg: What's wrong? I'm about to either burst into tears or laughter right now!

RAEB: Explanation?

Meg: My AP English teacher butchered my writing in front of the whole class! Apparently I'm too melodramatic!

JWJ: Does that surprise anyone?

Luke: Well… you are…

Meg: I know I am! But how do I fix it? Even these Author's Notes, despite their humor, are melodramatic!

RAEB: What do you care? Maybe that's your style.

Meg: _(whining)_ But everybody laughed at me! Now I have to rewrite the paper and make is as melodramatic as possible just so she can get another good laugh out of it!

RAEB: Why?

Meg: Because my teacher told me to.

_(RAEB bursts out laughing. Meg goes off to sulk.)

* * *

  
_

"Professor?"

Rose looked groggily around the flat. Ratigan was no where in sight.

"James?"

She got out of bed and stumbled to the table in the center of the room. She looked around the whole expanse of the flat. The chilling realization suddenly hit her: all of his belongings were gone. So was the valise.

She scanned the table, the nightstand. Nothing was there.

She searched the floor next to the bed, where she had let _Jane Eyre_ drop from her hands the night before. Even the novel was gone.

Ratigan had left her, taking any trace of his existence with him.

* * *

She tried not to believe it at first. She refused to believe it. _He has something important, something dangerous to do. He didn't want to risk my life. He'll come back when he's completed his task. He wouldn't leave me now._

Two weeks produced no sign of Ratigan. Three weeks and Rose succumbed to her inner demons.

What had she done to cause him to leave her without saying goodbye? What had _she_ done wrong?

Rose blamed it on her simplicity, her unattractive looks, her inferior mind and her shy manner.

What a fool she had been, throwing herself on him like that!

How could she have not seen it coming?

* * *

I have described in detail the roller coaster of emotions Rose has gone through ever since she left her home that fateful evening in March 1896. Now, one and one half years later, she was experiencing the same set of evil fabrications that her impressionable mind was wont to feed off of. If he had never kissed her, perhaps she might have been able to handle his departure with less violence of thought.

She should not have given her heart to him so freely in the first place.

Rose had made plenty of mistakes in her life. Who has not? This shy, quiet girl only wanted to change the past, start her life from the moment she was born, and prevent any of the mistakes from ever happening.

She was at a loss as to what to do. She was not ready to make a new life for herself all by herself. She had already stepped out into the world once in her life, only to end up in that flat, alone and unwanted. Was she ready to sink even lower this time?

She had to leave the flat, leave the memories behind, so she went out looking for a job. She ended up at a newspaper office as a cleaning woman. She went to work at six in the evening, washing the floors on her hands and knees, taking out garbage, wiping the windows clean. She would stay until midnight or later most nights, and then walk back to the flat alone.

Rose took to her dull job to avoid the lonely nights of solitude, but the pain did not go away. Rather, it increased in the silence of the flat.

Sometimes on those walks home she wished that some drunken fool she met would do her some injury. Sometimes, instead of going back to that lonely flat she walked the streets of London until the early hours of the morning. Often she was mistaken for a prostitute by the few that remained on the streets at this time of the night. Many times she ran for her life. Afterward, when she was safe back in the flat above the opium den, she wished that she had not run. She wished that she was not alive.

* * *

It was the beginning of October. The air was cooler as the days grew shorter; the breeze had a certain nip in its caresses. Persephone took to her desolate abode in the world of the dead, leaving Demeter too distraught to continue working.

Rose, wrapped in an old shawl, walked the streets of the East End in the late afternoon recalling past memories. She watched the bustling people about her as they called out to each other in amiable tones, debating and laughing.

How she wished to be a part of that; to be lost in the blissful simplicity of companionship. She had alienated herself from contact with mere mortals, and now here she wanted to belong with their kind once more!

Inadvertently Rose began to sing softly to herself:

"_Goodbye, so soon_

_And isn't it a crime?_

_We know by now that time knows how to fly_

_So soon_

_Goodbye…"_

She sighed as another sting of pain ripped across her heart. _You have to get over it! You cannot go on like this. It is like a thorn in your side, digging more deeply into your soul with each passing day…_

She gave a start as a hand was placed on her shoulder. She turned around and gasped; the face looking back at her was that of Basil of Baker Street.

His face showed no expression as he murmured, "Mam'selle, I have a particular wish to speak with you. Will you come with me?"

Fear, the kind that knows that this situation can bring only misfortune, consumed Rose. A thousand thoughts of escape evaded her. She had previously dreaded such a meeting; now that it was here, she felt powerless to delay it any further. Today would determine her fate.

"Yes," she breathed.

Her legs turned to rubber as he released her and proceeded through the crowd. She followed him, wondering what was in store for her.

As she walked, she wondered at the sense of doomed relief she felt. His arrival was almost a reprieve from the black thoughts that constantly devoured her hours of solitude. It was a change from the ordinary humdrumness of her daily life. She lived in hiding from fear and contact with other mice; now her sins were to be brought to light. She faced prison, a trial, and execution; she was certain of it. She yearned for death, for what else was there left for her in this life?

In a few brief moments she resigned herself to her fate. Yes, death would be the better course. She would not have to do the deed now; the law would make certain of that.

Basil stopped at the gate to a cemetery. He held it open for Rose. Passing through, she recognized it as the exact place where Gregory Rogers now rested. She headed mechanically towards the spot where he lay. She heard the slam of the gate and Basil's rapid footsteps as he hurried to catch up with her.

The grave was further up the path. She stopped where she was and concentrated on the headstone of one Charles Fontaine, d. 1789. "So I suppose today's the Judgement Day," she said in a shaky voice.

The detective said nothing. Rose looked up at him; his arms were folded, as if he was waiting for something from her.

"How did you find me?"

"You have been living in that flat above the opium house for some time now," Basil stated.

She felt as if he was squeezing her heart. Had he found Ratigan?

"How long have you known?"

"For three weeks now. I've watched you leave that office for your home for several nights."

"You've had me within your very grasp."

"As a matter of speaking."

Rose held her wrists forward. "So you have me. Here I am; arrest me. I don't deserve to live in decent society. Handcuff me and take me to the Yard. We'll both get what we want: I a punishment and freedom from guilt; you your success."

Basil did not respond at first. Finally he said, "Miss McGeady, first explain to me why a quiet, tender, loving daughter who had full faith in God and basic morals decided to throw away all that she thought was good for evil."

She felt sick to her stomach. She did not have to answer him, but she sensed that a confession would purge her of her guilt. "Mr. Basil, I regret many things I have done in the past. Right now I'd rather be dead. I gave up everything for false goals, wrong emotions, love of evil…" here she thought of Ratigan. "I never wanted to be a bad person. I wanted to belong. I wanted to have something solid to hold on to.

"When I first met Professor Ratigan he threatened my life. I had to work for him…"

She began to explain her sordid history to the detective. She explained everything; how she degraded herself for this man, how he had used her at first out of convenience, and then out of her own free will. She explained the mysteries that Basil had not been able to unravel out of certain jobs; her contributions to those jobs, her continuing devotion to Ratigan, even when he had killed fellow thugs, and Scarlet…

Rose stopped, feeling as if she would crumble into pieces if she continued. Scarlet. Her only true friend. She had betrayed Scarlet. She had betrayed her family, her country, her Queen, her God.

She turned away as tears streamed down her face. What a vile, corrupt thing she had become!

She heard Basil shuffle his feet as he patiently waited for her to master her emotions. She took a few deep breaths. Then, turning back to Basil, she said, "I am sorry for all my sins. Please, take me to Mouseland Yard. I'm too weak to account for them by myself anymore."

Basil started to walk down the path. Rose followed him.

"When your father came to me back in March of 1896," Basil began, "he went right up to me, held out his hand, and said, 'I need you to find my daughter.'

"He did not strike me as a man of emotion, but I could see worry and grief in his eyes. One of the greatest disappointments of my career was to go back to him and tell him that his daughter was dead.

"And then, months later, you showed up on my doorstep. Miss McGeady, it is not easy for me to admit I was wrong, but you were solid proof of my error. Yet I would not allow myself to admit it. I reasoned that you wanted to remain dead in the minds of those you loved; you certainly had not made yourself known to them earlier, so I told myself that you were going back to your mother.

"Then Mouseland Yard picked you up the night of the Big Ben Caper. I heard one of the officials describe you. I knew that you had chosen to remain in London. I decided that I could rectify my wrong by identifying you and sending you home. It was not to be."

Basil sighed. "I knew after the Tower Bridge Job what had happened to you. I do not blame all of your problems on myself. You brought a great deal of grief to others on your own."

Rose nodded her head sadly. "I know," she whispered.

The light from the sun was fast waning as the air grew cooler. Basil stopped and examined one of the graves. Rose stared at the ground next to it.

"I have spoken with many of your former comrades, Miss McGeady. Most of them had a high opinion of you. They said that you could have been something great if you had only not gotten yourself entangled with Professor Ratigan."

A feeling of shame flowed like electricity through her veins. "Who said that?" she asked in disbelief.

"Dresner, Kilburn, Bill, Doonegan-"

"Doonegan was caught?" Rose interrupted.

"Yesterday. It had not yet been made public."

"And he thought I could be something great?"

"Yes, he did."

Rose had always been under the impression that Doonegan thought she was too young and immature to be of any use to anyone. The compliment filled her with hope and regret at the same time.

"I guess I can be nothing great now," she moaned.

"With that outlook you will never be," Basil said shortly. He paused, and then continued, "Miss McGeady, a life considered ruined by all can be resurrected into something better than it once was. It is not an easy task. Many obstacles will threaten to throw you down on the path you once followed, the low and debase one of your former life. It takes tremendous willpower to resist the ideals of your past: the degradation, the thoughts, the mannerisms, the corruption. Sometimes you will want to give up. Inspiration to change will not always come. You will ostracize yourself from others and think yourself not good enough to dwell with them. You may even consider ending your life.

"The struggle will be the most difficult one you will ever face in your life. However, you must continue to transform all that you once were in order to become all that you want to be. I won't lie; you will fight the battle for the rest of your life. There will be moments that you will consider the victory won. Then something will happen that will make you reconsider the power of your transformation; you will feel like you have gone backwards. The struggle will seem more hopeless than before

"You will repeatedly fight to reach the level of greatness you strive to achieve. You will sometimes fall. You will be disappointed in yourself, and tell yourself that you will never reach your goal.

"Strength comes in many different forms. Not everyone can find it in the exact same way. Eventually, you will find that strength to make the attempt again. You will be walking what was once familiar ground, now covered with more traps, obstacles, and dead ends.

"Not everyone makes it, Miss McGeady. You may not make it. But if you don't try, then you _will_ never make it."

Basil stopped speaking. Rose felt indignant, upset, angry and ashamed. She wanted to change, but she wanted someone to walk her through it. She wanted it to be easy and simple and without trouble or pain. Hearing Basil speak of it, though, made her feel less certain than ever that she could ever remedy the malevolent person she was.

"Miss McGeady, I have decided that you are to be left alone. Testimony from Hiram and Olivia Flaversham, as well as those associated with Professor Ratigan, has convinced me that you were misled by him. Reviewing your history, I decided that you are no longer a danger to society now that he is gone. I have persuaded Mouseland Yard that you are no longer in London. They believe you have gone to America to find your family."

Rose felt as if she was dead. Basil had just destroyed her former self. She could be reborn if she chose to. She could get away.

"Mr. Basil?" she asked faintly.

"If you need help with anything in the future, you know where to find me," Basil said abruptly. "Good day, Miss McGeady."

He walked rapidly down the path to the cemetery gate. Rose watched him until he disappeared from sight, and then looked around at the deserted cemetery around her.

Her meeting with Basil felt like a dream now that he was gone. Had it actually happened? Had he actually offered her a chance at redemption?

Did she want redemption?

* * *

Rose sat in the lonesome flat, listening to the sound of the wind whistling through the eaves. What a desolate evening to accompany a forlorn soul on the journey towards salvation… or damnation.

She knew what she wanted; she wanted a reason to live. She wanted a destiny. She wanted an existence… with Ratigan.

She, however, was troubled by the fact that perhaps that was not what she truly needed.

What did she need? What was the best course for her? What road was she to take now?

She took a deep breath. "Be strong, Rose. You must be strong. You must be strong. You must be strong…"

She repeated the words as if they were an incantation, hoping to draw some comfort from them. But Rose had never felt so vulnerable in her life. It was as if the world, even Nature, even God himself were against her. She was anything but strong.

But still she spoke those words to the air.

"You must be strong…"

Why had this particular burden been placed upon her? Why could not some other person determine her path, her fate, for her? She wanted a direction, but she did not want the responsibility of taking it and possibly failing. She had been content following Ratigan wherever he had led her. And now he was no longer here to guide her.

"Why, God? Why this, why me?" she demanded, looking up at the ceiling. "Why did this have to happen to me? I'm weak; you know that. You abandoned me; left me to fend for myself. I had no one to turn to—no one but him. And now he's gone…"

Her eyes fell. She knew better than that. No one had abandoned her; she had abandoned everything herself.

She sat in silence, a thousand thoughts spinning through her head. She played the story of her life from the beginning, hoping to find something to hold on to, some memory that showed that she could pull herself out of this situation. All she found were the parts of her past, now shattered into a million pieces. She had neither the ability nor the will to put them back together; they were too small to touch. She had lost hold of everything.

She said once more, "You must be strong." She stopped. There was no power to the words as long as nothing was done to change her current status.

She massaged her eyes. Where was she to go from here?

* * *

Rose awoke the next morning.

"What if I…"

She shook her head. It was too improbable; most likely impossible. Besides, she would lose what pride she had left in herself.

The idea persisted. Rose went to work turning the thought over in her head. Why not? What could prevent her? She was as free as she could expect to be. This could be her only chance at starting over…

By the time she reached the flat early that morning, she had made up her mind.

She would do it.

* * *

Lizz: This is very melodramatic.

Luke: Yeah, I thought you were trying to get away from this melodrama stuff, Meg.

Meg: I never said that.

RAEB: But you were just upset because your teacher told you that you were too melodramatic.

Meg: Yeah, but then I thought long and hard about it, and I came to the realization that pretty much every single fiction writer is melodramatic: Edgar Allen Poe, the Bronte sisters, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens. Even our good friend Arty Conan Doyle had his moments of melodrama in his writing.

Luke: Well, I think you need to lighten up. This story is really starting to drag with all the melodrama.

Meg: I'm working on finishing it, don't worry.

JWJ: How many more chapters?

Meg: Three. Well, two, and then an epilogue.

JWJ: YES! I'LL FINALLY BE FREE! _(runs off)_

Meg: I resent that! Grrr… I need to kill him one of these days.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

* * *

_(Meg is glaring at Ratigan)_

Meg: You're really trying to make me mad enough to kill you!

Ratigan: _(laughing)_ Oh, get over it! Someone needed to tell you that your writing stinks!

Meg: Now my AP English teacher isn't taking ANYTHING I write seriously anymore! I tried to be original, and I got mocked for it!

Ratigan: Believe me, you're anything but original. Everything you do, or anyone does for that matter, is an imitation of what someone hundreds, or even thousands, of years ago has done.

Meg: And you think that you're original?

Ratigan: I never said anything of the sort. We're all just imitations of each other.

Lizz: That sounds really philosophical.

Ratigan: Thank you, Lizz.

Meg: LIZZ! STAY OUT OF THIS!

Lizz: Well, maybe you need to show your AP English teacher that your style is your style, no matter how melodramatic or silly it may seem to her.

Ratigan: Not exactly what I was thinking…

Meg: YOU NEED A LIFE! _(storms out of room)

* * *

  
_

Rose walked through the familiar streets, feeling like a complete stranger. They felt a part of her, and yet they felt like they did not belong to her at all.

She recognized the butcher, the seamstress shop, the iceman's cart, and yet she hid her face from the familiar sights; they were too foreign to her.

Rose approached the heavy, worn door. Stepping inside, she took the well-known flight of steps up to the second landing, to the third door on the right. She raised her fist and…

Hesitated.

She took a deep breath, and then knocked on the door.

She heard nothing. She knocked again.

No response.

She tapped the wood one more time.

The door swung open and Elaine McGeady stepped forward. She looked sternly at the cloaked figure before her.

"Yes? What do you want?" she asked, sounding rather irate.

Rose clenched her hands together. "I want to say that I am sorry for all the grief I have caused you."

Elaine took a step back. "Who are you?"

Rose lifted off her hood. "May I come in?"

Elaine gave a start. "What? You!" But she moved aside to let her daughter pass.

Rose stepped into the flat, so strange and empty. It was tidier than it had been in previous days, but also sparse in homeliness.

"What makes you think you can come back here, after all you've done to me?" Elaine demanded, starting up on the all-too-familiar tone she took when scolding her children. "You think you can just come back here? Are you hiding from the police, Rose?"

"No, I am not," Rose said shortly, already regretting having come back here.

"I've heard all about the evil things you did in London, Rose! You think I haven't heard? Everyone just _loves_ to remind me of how my _evil_ daughter tried to kill the Queen!"

"I didn't try to kill the Queen! Professor Ratigan did!"

"Have you come back here to kill me too?"

Rose sighed in exasperation. 'Now why would I do that?"

"You want to hurt people! That's all you ever think about!"

"No!"

"Yes, Rose! You only care about yourself! You never give a thought to others!"

"Mother!"

"What?"

"Hear me out! Just listen!"

Elaine folded her arms and glared at her.

Rose decided that that was her cue to start talking. "I've done many wrong things in my life-"

"Hah!"

"_Mother!_ Please, let me finish!"

Elaine said nothing and continued to glare.

"I ruined everything. I admit it. I don't have anywhere to go. I need something to hold on to-"

"_Now_ you'll admit it!" Elaine exclaimed sarcastically. "Before you didn't need me, but _now_ you run crying home to me, expecting me to fix all your problems! Well, maybe I don't want to fix your problems, Rose! You were selfish to me, so now I'll be selfish to you!"

Rose felt as if she was losing grasp of the situation, a feeling common to her when she used to live with her mother. "Mother, please…"

"You didn't need me, Rose! Well, maybe I don't need you! You're evil! You're selfish and you think only about yourself and you're _evil!_"

_If she says evil one more time…_

"You've failed, and now you expect me to help you?"

Rose wrung her hands.

"What happened to that rat you ran about with? You're a traitor! A traitor to you family, to the country! I have never known a daughter to be so dishonorable, so _evil!_"

"I don't even know why I came here then!" Rose exploded. "I'm not even here for two minutes and already I want to leave! I came because I wanted to change my life!"

"It's too late for that," her mother smirked.

"You don't love me," Rose murmured in disbelief. "I'm your daughter, and you don't care what happens to me?"

"You never loved me, even after all I've done for you!"

"What have you done for me?"

"I've cleaned, cooked, cared-"

"All you ever did was scream and yell! You were a good mother when you weren't trying to punish us for some trivial mistake! You love to yell! You're miserable because there's no one left here to yell at! You loved to yell at Father, at your parents, at Francis, Jessi, Gwen, and I! We love you, but we hated what you became when you yelled!"

Elaine McGeady gave Rose a look that could kill. "How dare you talk! Your sins are more terrible than anything I have ever done, and yet you blame them all on me!"

"I never blamed any of them on you! I'm a bad person, but should that condemn me from having a second chance? Father would take me back!"

"Your father isn't here anymore, Rose! And you don't get second chances until you start showing respect to others!"

"I… I…"

Rose stopped. Her mind went blank. She was tired of fighting her mother again, but she did not want to separate this way. Not again.

Elaine gave a triumphant smile. "You have nothing to say! You know I am right!"

"No, you're wrong," Rose said in a dark voice. Elaine's smile wavered. "You did not treat me with respect; therefore, I feel no obligation to show you any." She turned to go.

"Running away again, Rose?" her mother called mockingly.

Rose hesitated. It was a trap. Her mother wanted to continue the fight. It was better, had always been better in the past to let her have her say and ignore her. The fight would end sooner that way. But Rose's pride would not let her leave without defending herself.

"When I ran away…" she began slowly, turning back to her mother, "I was lost and confused for so long. I got myself involved with some very bad people. I shouldn't have. I am trying to answer for all that. Running away was probably one of the greatest mistakes of my life. I lost everything. But if you're not willing to forgive me and help me find my way back to the light-"

"Stop speaking dramatically and spit the words out, Rose!" Elaine barked impatiently.

Rose gritted her teeth. "I am not being dramatic!"

"You always were. You think this is some sort of cheap romance novel. You've always lived your life like that."

"That isn't the point!" Rose said, stamping her foot. "Stop interrupting and just listen! I need someone to be there for me! I thought I'd reconcile our relationship in the hope that it would purge me of some of my sins, but apparently that's too hard for you to do! Well, go to Hell, Mother! I'm sick of fighting you! I need a friend, not another enemy!"

She stormed out the door.

Elaine hurried after her. "You're a traitor and you know it! Don't run away again, Rose! I'll… I'll call the police!"

Rose flew down the steps, ignoring the opening doors on the landing. Tenants came out to watch the shouting match.

"Go right ahead!" Rose cried out. "I don't care anymore! I'm sorry for all I've done, but will they understand? NO! You never will either!"

"You won't last a minute out there!"

Rose turned at the bottom of the stairs. "I lasted over a year and a half, Mother! I'm willing to last as long as I can, without you!"

She strode rapidly out the front door.

* * *

On the train ride back to London Rose reprimanded herself. What had she been thinking, going back to her mother? She should have known better than to come crawling back to that selfish woman! And what had Rose accomplished? She only managed to make herself feel even worse than she had before. She felt truly forsaken.

Rose's hands flew to the familiar locket around her neck, suddenly furious with Ratigan. If _he _had not left her, she would have someplace to go. This was all his fault!

Rose was fuming. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she ever listened to him? What had he ever done for her?

She ferociously ripped the locket from her neck and threw it in her pocket. She would leave it at the flat. She would leave London that night; perhaps for America or South Africa or even Germany. She had to leave. She could be a teacher, a dime novelist, a whore… no, she could not go backwards. She had never fallen to Scarlet's level; she did not intend on degrading herself out of desperation. She would rather turn herself in out of desperation, if it ever got to that point.

_I think it has gotten to that point._

_Don't think like that! Stay positive! You won't get through unless you remain hopeful._

_I hate him! I have to start anew! Change my name, get far away from here…_

Rose felt bitter, and yet, she sensed a rare emotion along with it: hope. Things appeared bad, but she somehow knew that it could not last forever. It would get better, if only she would give it a chance.

But first, she needed to make a real change…

* * *

_(Meg is writing on a piece of paper)_

Luke: What are you doing?

Meg: Filling out a job application.

Luke: I thought you already had a job… or two…

Meg: I do.

Luke: Then why are you looking for a new job?

Meg: I'm not looking for one for me; this one's for that screwy rat that keeps ruining my life!

Luke: _(looks at application)_ Kennywood Park, Pittsburgh, PA? Why are you trying to get him hired at Kennywood?

Meg: In October they're open on weekends from seven p.m. to midnight; it's called Phantom Fright Nights.

Luke: And Ratigan would want to work there because…?

Meg: For many reasons. One, he can scare stupid teenagers. JWJ, Leigh, Lizz, and I went last week, and we spent more time arguing with the ghouls than screaming at them. If he had been there, though… _(evil laugh)_ JWJ would have wet himself!

Luke: Okay…

Meg: Oh, and in front of the one haunted house, they were playing the original "House on Haunted Hill" starring Vincent Price, as we waited in line! Ratigan has got to love Vincent Price now!

Luke: Why? He probably has never even heard of Vincent Price. Actually, you're probably the only person who has!

Meg: _(sigh) _And the third reason: Gory Park, eh, Lost Kennywood, is filled with these fake, giant rats on account of their indoor rollercoaster, The Exterminator. Ratigan would definitely scare some people there!

Luke: Don't you think he might be insulted?

Meg: Yes.

Luke: He doesn't have to accept any interviews or anything.

Meg: No, he doesn't.

Luke: So what makes you think the plan will work?

Meg: _(pats Luke on the shoulder) _You'll see.


	30. Explanation

Explanatory Note

* * *

Meg: _(runs into the room)_ I HATE TECHNOLOGY!

_(Meg throws laptop against the wall, completely demolishing it)_

Meg: _(gasps for breath)_

RAEB: WHY DID YOU DO THAT? The school's going to make you pay $2,000 dollars for that!

Meg: _(composes herself, grinning like a maniac)_ I know.

RAEB: Don't you care?

Meg: At this point, no.

RAEB: Are you insane?

Meg: At this point, yes.

RAEB: I'm calling a mental doctor for you.

Meg: Go right ahead. I feel mental.

_(RAEB runs out of room)_

Meg: Dear readers, I have some really bad news: The release of the last two chapters in the saga of Rose McGeady have been postponed for an indefinite period of time.

Emma: Why?

Meg: _(points to the remains of her laptop)_ I had the last chapter written up- it was the best I have ever written. It was marvelous; it was stupendous. I had the second to last chapter half-way completed as well (yes, I went backwards on the chapters). And what did I get for it? A crashed hard drive. When it was replaced, I discovered that everything I had written had been blasted into oblivion.

Emma: Oh. Sorry, Meg.

Meg: _(still strangely calm)_ I also had a humorous play I wrote for my European History and Literature class about the medieval concept of werewolves on my laptop as well. I was planning on posting it in my profile for Halloween, but then that got lost, along with the rest of Rose's story.

Ratigan: _(laughs triumphantly)_

Meg: _(still calm, but shooting glares at Ratigan)_ All I have to say is that I have made no effort to recreate the lost chapters as of yet. I will eventually, as soon as I get the heart to risk losing all of my work again. I also need to clear some things out of my schedule: cross-country (until November 5), some AP English work (which will probably never be cleared, but I need to finish certain assignments first), and family obligations.

Ratigan: I'VE WON!

Meg: Hey Wormtail, I'm calm right now. Give up and go home.

Ratigan: Wormtail? I'm not Peter Pettigrew.

Meg: You've read _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?_

Ratigan: I had to see what the big deal was with those books.

Meg: You're lucky I like your voice. I just fell in love with _Edward Scissorhands_ because Vincent Price sounds so much like you did at that time in his life. Too bad he was only in three measly scenes.

Ratigan: Shouldn't you be working on AP English?

Meg: _(frown)_ Just kill my leisure time, why don't you? Anyway, sorry everyone for my retarded piece of scrap metal. The next up date will be the last, I promise.


	31. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

* * *

_(Meg is crying)_

RAEB: Meg, What's wrong?

Meg: I hate my life!

RAEB: All right, what new drama has unfolded now?

Meg: Ratigan got all his 'buddies' from Kennywood to scare me to death last week! I had a "Dawn of the Dead" experience!

Emma: It was so scary!

RAEB: _(muttering)_ Glad I was gone on that band trip…

Lizz: Well, it scared JWJ as well.

Meg: _(crying even harder)_ Don't mention that jerk to me!

RAEB: What'd he do?

Meg: _(points to Leigh)_ He's dating my sister!

Leigh: _(holds up hands defensively)_ He's not that bad of a guy, Meg!

Meg: TRAITOR!

Luke: That _is _something worth crying over!

Meg: And then I finished writing this chapter! It turned out better than I expected! It's great!

RAEB: And you're crying because…

Meg: Because the story ends here, and I didn't want it to end this way!

Luke: Huh?

Meg: Whaaaaaaaaaaa!

* * *

_Swish-swish. Swish-swish. Swish-swish,_

Rose moved the brushed back and forth across the scuffed floor. It was three days after the incident in Exeter. The police knew she was still in London; all the newspapers clamored with the news. But still she continued as if all were normal. She feared that she would go insane if she did otherwise.

Leaving London turned out to be more difficult than Rose had previously thought. She had a passport under an alias, but she could not decide where to go. In the end she finally settled to thinking it over for a few days. In the meantime she continued her job as a cleaning woman, hoping contact with the outside world would give her some inspiration as to where to go. Besides, she needed the money.

She rubbed her eyes, weary from her menial task. She felt much slower these days, as if her body was tired of functioning properly.

She heard voices come from the next room. There were several men in there; they had been debating prophecies and politics for two hours now. Rose stopped scrubbing, hoping to catch a snatch of the conversation.

"- living in the next Rome!" one bold voice stated. "Look at the evidence. The Book of Daniel mentions a statue with a head of gold, a torso of silver, an abdomen and thighs made of bronze, and knees and feet made partly of iron and partly of baked clay."

"I don't recall reading anything of such a statue," a quiet voice said.

"It's there, in the second chapter. I'll show you. Is there a Bible in here?"

There was a scuffle and murmur as several people began looking for a copy of the worthy text. Rose recommenced scrubbing.

An ejaculation of, "Who doesn't keep a copy of the Good Book in any respectable building?" a few minutes later confirmed that the object of their search had not been found. "Well, read the story at home: chapter two of the Book of Daniel. The king of Babylon, whatshisname, Nechadbenzy or something-"

"Nebuchadnezzar?" the quiet voice asked.

"Yes, that's it, Professor! So this king, he has a dream about this statue, and saw a rock break off the statue and fall on the iron-clay feet, causing the whole edifice crumble and blow away."

"So?" a different voice said.

"I'm getting to that. Daniel comes and tells the king the meaning of the dream: the gold head represents Babylon. The silver part represents a lesser kingdom, while the bronze part represents a kingdom even lesser than the second one. The fourth kingdom will be strong; it will smash and crumble other kingdoms, but it will be divided. That's why it was made of iron and clay. The rock that crushed it is a kingdom made by God that will destroy the foundations of all those other kingdoms."

"Are you suggesting that England is the God-made kingdom?" another voice asked.

"No. On the contrary, the iron-clay kingdom represents England, or at least our British Empire."

"Then what were the other kingdoms before ours? The silver and the bronze ones of the dream?"

"Well, many learned men believe that they represent the Persian and Greek Empires."

"What about the Roman Empire?"

"Well, maybe the Greek and Roman Empires."

"The Holy Roman Empire? Surely that was more important than those Empires."

"I disagree. It did not encompass as much land as the Roman Empire."

"Well, Rome was definitely one of them."

"What about the Byzantine Empire?"

There was a pause. Then someone broke the silence by saying, "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does. We must be certain that the iron-clay kingdom is our own Empire. Ancient Rome was destroyed by corruption, and we are living in corrupt times."

"How so?"

"Look around you, man! Murders every day, all sorts of crime, slums with horrible living conditions, unhappy workers in factories. All sorts of leaders are having affairs of double-dealing behind everyone else's back! Our colonies are causing us so much trouble and grief; more and more soldiers die every day. Our empire is going to collapse, and all because of the immoral conditions we are living in!"

Rose smirked. The prophecy was interesting, but she did not think the man's argument held much water. There had been many empires on the earth; pinpointing one as being more likely to fit a prophecy than another did not seem valid to her. Besides, what society has not been corrupt?

"As interesting as this all is, I must return home and finish some last-minute preparations. Graham, I doubt your end-of-the-world scenarios will happen anytime soon."

"But it is something to consider, Professor."

"It is, and we shall consider it more carefully at a later date. I have some evidence than contradicts what you say, although I cannot exactly recall what it said. I shall search for it among my own books, and then present it to you."

"Have a safe journey, sir."

"Thank you. Good evening, gentlemen."

Rose stood up and stretched her back as the men bid the departing man adieu. She watched an elderly gentleman leave the room. Clearing her throat as he passed her, she said, "It would be Persia and Rome."

The gentleman glanced at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your empires. The Greeks never really had an empire; they were divided into independent city-states; never fully unified to create an empire. But they did greatly influence the Persians and the Romans. No empires were ever as big as those empires, although I believe Britain is headed in that direction."

The gentleman took a good look at her, smiling kindly. "You are right. I can recall learning something of that sort once."

Rose blushed at the good-natured smile. She had not seen one of those directed at her in a long time, and she felt that she was undeserving of it. "I only overheard what was being said, and thought it necessary to offer my… help." She got back down on her hands and knees and commenced with her work.

The gentleman, however, remained where he was. "How did you learn that?" he asked.

"Learn what, sir?"

"All that information about ancient civilizations?"

Rose stopped and wiped her hands on her dress. "I went to secondary school."

"Ah. And may I ask what Miss Secondary School is doing scrubbing floors?"

Rose felt somewhat elated and ashamed at the same time. She had found someone to tell some of her troubles to. "Miss Secondary School is alone in the world and cannot find a better, more respectable job. She never completed the necessary courses for her to earn her living as a governess, and no one will take her for anything else."

"Come now! You have no other skills?"

"I have knowledge in useless information, such as literature and history. Women cannot do much with such knowledge."

"On the contrary, everyone, including women, can do much with such knowledge. They pay for literary critics nowadays. I know a few women in the field."

"Really?" Rose said, looking up at the gentleman. "They pay women to write criticism about literature?"

"They pay anyone who is knowledgeable about the topic and can write a good criticism."

"Oh." Rose was not much interested in literary criticism. "And history?"

"Well, some women assist learned men in research on histories and cultures."

"Really? Are they picked for such a purpose?"

"Yes. If they are taking University courses, they do field research with their professors. Some women assist relatives in this as well."

"Really? I would love to do something like that!"

The girl's mind was buzzing with dreams of new opportunities for her in the form of castles, cathedrals, and the tombs of men long dead. But then reason came back to her.

"Oh, well, I couldn't do that," she said dejectedly.

The gentleman only continued to smile. "Why not?"

"I don't have anyone to assist."

"Well, that is unfortunate," he commented lightly. Then, changing his tone to that of excitement, he persisted, "But say, for one instant, that it was possible. Say you had a deep desire for learning of the past, and you wanted to take your learning and use it for a practical purpose. Would you do it?"

"Yes, yes I would!" Rose said eagerly, moved by his words and tone. "But alas, I have no means to make this dream a reality."

"Do you have a love for learning?"

"Of course I do! I research any obscure topic of interest for the sake of gaining more knowledge. It used to drive my parents crazy because I could never seem to keep my nose out of a book."

"Do you want to raise yourself up from the position you are in?"

"Most definitely."

"Then why not dare to dream a little?" The gentlemen asked.

Rose opened her mouth to utter a reason as to why this scheme would no work, but he held up his hand, arresting her complaints before they issued forth.

"One must have big dreams in order to have big successes." He tipped his hat and went down the stairs, leaving Rose to watch his receding figure.

She bit her lip and turned her attention to the dirty bucket of water next to her. She was disgusted with herself. The man had meant no harm; he was only trying to be helpful. And, even though it had been rather uncomfortable, she had enjoyed the brief conversation. It was a reminder of what normalcy could be; what it was like to associate oneself with one's fellow man.

Rose heard the voices from within the room once again, but she was too consumed with her own thoughts to eavesdrop on the conversation. What had caused her to say something to the man when he had come out on the landing?

She knew the answer in her heart: she had wanted someone to see her value.

Rose sat down on the steps and put her head in her hands. The voices in the next room lowered significantly lowered. She looked up at the door; recalling something one of them had said earlier that evening, when she had first come in. She stood up and headed to the door. Then she stopped and looked down at her russet-colored, water-streaked dress. She then saw her reflection in the window of the office. She was not presentable enough.

She picked up her bucket and dumped its contents out the window. She placed it in a closet of cleaning supplies, grabbed her cloak and headed down the stairs and out the door.

* * *

The next afternoon a well-dressed young woman wearing a pink and white striped blouse, a dark blue jacket and a dark blue skirt entered the offices of _The London Free-Press_. Her dark blond hair was neatly combed and pinned up, hidden under a small straw hat.

She walked confidently past the journalists sitting at their desks, working on their stories. The only sign of uneasiness she conveyed was when she reached the editor's door. She paused, took a deep breath, and then pasted her most self-assured smile on her face before entering.

She marched up to the editor and without a greeting extended her hand towards him.

All she said was, "I am looking for a secretarial position with your newspaper."

* * *

Rose raced up the stairs towards her flat. It was the middle of the afternoon; she only had two hours to pack all she had, destroy any evidence of her existence there, and let Madame Jiang know of the new vacancy.

She reached the familiar door, thrush her key into the keyhole, turned it, and tried to open the door.

It remained locked.

"Oh, come on!" Rose muttered, turning the key a second time. The door gave way, and Rose flew into the room and to the bed. She grabbed an old, worn carpetbag next to the bed and began to throw anything that came within reach into it, disregarding order.

"Going on a trip?" an all-too-familiar voice said.

Rose froze, a hairbrush and box of pins suspended over the bag. She slowly turned around, coming face-to-face with James Ratigan.

"You!" she gasped, dropping the pins. The box popped open, spilling pins all over the floor. "What… why… how?"

"Surprised to see me?" he asked, amused.

Rose could not believe it. She had finally decided to leave, and here he was, back from wherever he had gone. Her initial thought was to jump into his arms; but then her practical side actually wanted to tell him to leave so she could finish packing. She reacted instead by saying, "You're… back."

"Pleased to see you too," Ratigan said a little sarcastically. He sat down on the bed and motioned towards the carpetbag. "Where are you going, little lady?"

"I… I…" Rose threw her brush into the bag. She then got down on her hands and knees and gathered the pins towards her to stall for time. "Where were you?" she countered.

"You didn't answer my question."

Rose pretended to ignore the statement as she grabbed handfuls of the pins and put them back into the box. Ratigan waited for a few moments before repeating himself.

Rose looked up at him in what she hoped was a nonchalant look. "Sir?"

"Oh, so you go back to calling me 'sir,' then!" Ratigan said, laughing. "Of course, you don't know what the status is between us, so you recall our common association.

Rose shut the box and stood up. "How am I to know what the status is between us, Professor Ratigan, when you have not given me any solid indication of what you would wish it to be?" she said a little sharply.

"What do you mean?" Ratigan asked, seemingly unaware of her change in tone.

Rose placed the pins gently in her bag. Then she took them out again, along with everything else she had packed. She commenced folding all her clothes and carefully placing them back in the bag. "Well, I… you left, sir… with no indication of where you were going, and for how long. The way I saw it, it seemed like you were… were…"

She looked helplessly at her clothes. She reached into the pocket of the brown dress on the bed and pulled out the locket. She traced the 'R' with her thumb, aware that Ratigan's eyes were on her. She gripped it in her fist, held it against her lips, and then threw it in Ratigan's face, startling him. "How DARE you use me and then leave me as if I were a worthless piece of trash!" she shrieked.

Ratigan's eyes narrowed. "Don't start with me, Rose."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I?" she demanded, hoping to egg him on.

Ratigan gave an exasperated sigh. "I have no patience for this foolishness, Rose. I'm back now. Isn't that enough?"

Rose had slightly recovered from her first outburst, but she unintentionally began to shove her belongings back into the carpetbag. "No, it's not. I want an explanation!"

He reached out and closed the carpetbag, arresting Rose's movements. She gave him a questioning stare.

"Where do you think you're going? Is this some sort of act, to make me feel sorry for you?"

She sighed. "No, it's not. I didn't even see you when I first came in."

"Then why are you packing?" he asked her quietly.

She picked up her purse and pulled out a newspaper clipping. Handing it to him, she said, "I didn't expect you to come back."

Ratigan glanced over the clipping. He then looked at her, as if he was scrutinizing her appearance. He crumbled up the paper and tossed it away. "You don't need to do that, Rose. I'm building up my business again."

"Oh?"

"Yes. That was why I left."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to risk you giving the Yard any information."

"Did you think I'd be caught?" she asked.

He did not answer her. Instead he took his hand off the carpetbag and stood up. "Pack and be ready. We're going to Dublin."

"Dublin? Why?" she asked cautiously.

"Doonegan's been arrested-"

"I know," Rose said, remembering what Basil had told her.

Ratigan paused, and then nodded. "I have to pick up where he left off. Not like he deserves it, betraying me as he did. He'll get his just desserts soon enough, though. All of them will!"

"All of them?" Rose asked, feeling chills go down her spine.

"Yes, all of them." Then under his breath, he muttered, "Even that lying whore Rachel Dunlap-"

A revelation Rose had feared for weeks suddenly sprang forward. "You _did_ go to see Mrs. Dunlap, didn't you?"

Ratigan straightened his cravat. "As a matter of fact, I did. Why do you ask?"

She had a queer smile on her face, as if she had control of the situation. "Remember before the Diamond Jubilee? Mrs. Dunlap sent a flurry of letters to you. We… well, Gerald, Kilburn, Fidget and I, we figured that the only reason for these letters, and the arrangements for her arrival in London after you were to take over the kingdom, were because she was going to stay with you, as your mistress!"

Ratigan folded him arms but said nothing.

Rose continued, "And then you fell, you were sick, and _I_ took care of you, even when Dr. Reinsel had given up. You got better, you used my affections for you for your own selfish pleasure, and then you _left_, thinking that Mrs. Dunlap cared for you! Am I right?"

He smirked. "You think that's what really happened?"

She began to pack again, musing, "I bet she laughed in your face, sir. She knows you have nothing. She knows you are nothing. She probably called you a disgusting sewer ra—"

A blow from Ratigan sent Rose sprawling over the bed and onto the floor. She lay in a heap, her neatly pinned hair disheveled, her head throbbing from the pain. She could feel the left side of her face swelling up. She did not attempt to get up; she was afraid of what she would have to face when she did.

Perhaps she lay there for seconds, or perhaps minutes. Rose was not certain. At some point, however, Ratigan came around the bed, knelt down besides her, gathered her in his arms, and sat down on the bed, gently rocking her. Rose could not help it; she began to sob.

"You loved her more than I, didn't you? She is beautiful, witty, smart, entertaining, and I am so plain and simple and… and…" she began to choke on her own tears. She buried her face in his coat.

"Quiet, Rose… shhh," he said, stroking her hair. "It's over now; I'm not dealing with that slut ever again."

"It's true?" she murmured.

Ratigan sighed. "Yes, it is true."

They sat in silence for some minutes, Rose trying to figure out what to do next. She had been excited about going to Strasbourg, but Ratigan's untimely return had dispelled the eagerness. She wanted the job she had just received, but she also wanted to stay with Ratigan. She had a chance at two new futures now: one focusing on her own ambitions, and one focusing on Ratigan's. Which one would make her happier?

Which one would she never regret choosing?

Rose disentangled herself from Ratigan's arms. She dried her eyes and said in as calm a voice as she could muster, "I need to know: what happened while you were away?"

* * *

First I must explain why I left. I know you will never be satisfied unless I clear that little mystery for you.

I have never met a girl like you, Rose. Your obedience is so astounding that I cannot completely trust it. Your desire to please is also rather daunting. Granted, I have always liked you. You were innocent, quiet, and always ready to listen and oblige my whims. But I did not trust you. I suppose I am too suspicious of people to trust the motives that are shown to me.

I believe I realized this after I learned of your affections for me. I had always suspected that you had admired me; I wasn't aware of the extent of that admiration until you admitted it to me yourself; you seemed so embarrassed and angry that I could not help but take your word for it!

Don't blush, Rose. I used it against you; and for all the wrong reasons. But, in the end, I believed I realized how my affection for you had grown. It alarmed me; I thought I was going soft. And I have been attracted to Rachel for quite some time. I assumed that it was love at work. So I, fearing that you would usurp the position of the person I thought should hold it, left you, trusting you enough to hold your tongue, and paid a visit to dear Mrs. Dunlap.

It may please you to know that Rachel received me in a cold, friendless fashion. I was hardly there for five minutes before she told me to leave; I was unwelcome there. So I threatened her, and she in turn threatened to call the police. I then threatened to inform her husband of her shameful relation to me, and she promptly shut up. After that I left the Dunlap house in a rather humbling position.

I was disgusted with myself. I had fooled myself to believe I had cared for that woman. And then I thought of you, Rose. I convinced myself that your affection was as meaningless as Rachel's had been, and proceeded to rebuild my organization. For weeks I managed to shove all thoughts of any woman out of my head, until I read about your confrontation with your mother in Exeter in the newspapers.

* * *

Ratigan pulled out a newspaper and tossed it on the bed. "Why did you go to see her?"

Rose explained how desperation had caused her to go back to her mother. Ratigan nodded understandingly.

"I surmised as much. I then thought of you, alone in all this, and how badly I had treated you."

"So you came back out of pity?"

"Pity? No. I came back because I realized that I didn't want you to be alone anymore. I wanted you with me, to help me with my crimes and get revenge on Basil of Baker Street."

"Do you love me, Professor?" Rose asked.

Ratigan shook his head. "I don't know what love is, Rose. I am fond of you, but love… If you'd teach me, maybe I could learn. I don't know anymore."

Rose smiled sadly at him. "I am sorry for you, sir. I really am. I don't know why you cannot trust anyone. I don't know how I could teach you to love. I doubt you could teach me to love back." She placed the last of her articles in her bag. Then, taking out her brush and a hand mirror, she began to brush back her hair.

"Rose, this isn't the end," he said gently. "I am asking you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Because I am certain that we can make each other happy."

Rose sighed. "There was once a time I was convinced that you could make me happy. And then I degraded myself for you; I betrayed my friends, my family, my country. I helped you hurt so many innocent people. I just don't want a part of that anymore. Besides, Professor, I cannot trust you. How happy can I be if I cannot trust you?"

Ratigan gave Rose a look of despair that she would have killed to have received only weeks ago. He smiled sadly back at her. "So what do you plan on doing now?"

Rose pinned back her hair and examined her swelling eye in the mirror. "I plan on going to Strasbourg for _The_ _London Free-Press_. Perhaps I can eventually get a position as a field reporter. You?"

"On to Dublin. After that… we'll see where fate takes me."

She closed her carpetbag, put on her cloak, and faced Ratigan. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, sir," she said, extending her hand.

Ratigan hesitated, and then accepted the hand warmly, a melancholy look in his eyes. "You're a wise girl, Rose, to get out of this before it is too late."

"You'd be wise too if you'd leave it alone as well, Professor. I'm sure you'll succeed in all your endeavors, but please look on Germany with kindness if you ever plan on conquering a country again."

"I'll spare Strasbourg," he said, laughing. "I wouldn't want to ruin the success of my protégée."

"Your protégée?" Rose gave him a questioning look.

Something oval and metallic was pressed into her hands.

"Keep it," he said, "to remember me by."

Rose looked at the object. It was the locket.

"I'll treasure it always," she murmured. She headed to the door. As she reached it, she paused.

"I have one last question," Rose said, turning back to Ratigan. "This locket. Why did you first give it to me, and what does the 'R' stand for?'

Ratigan cleared his throat. He actually looked a little uncomfortable.

"I had a baby sister named Rose. She died in infancy. That locket was supposed to be a gift for her when she got older. It fell into my possession when my father died. I, having no practical use for it, gave it to you on a whim."

Rose smiled. "Goodbye, sir," she said, leaving the flat for the last time.

She felt as if she was dreaming as she headed out into the streets and towards the docks to find the boat that would convey her to her new life. A part of her longed to go back to Ratigan, but somehow she knew it would be better this way.

* * *

As she approached the boat a sailor fell into stride with her.

"They don't speak much of the English language in Strasbourg, Miss McGeady," he said in a gruff voice.

"They don't speak much of the language of brotherly love in London, Mr. Basil," Rose replied.

"Good luck, Mam'selle," he said quietly. "Remember, lying is looked down upon in journalism."

"Good luck to you as well, sir. Difficult times lie ahead for you as well as I." Rose kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for giving me a second chance."

As she boarded the boat, she experienced that familiar feeling of losing a part of herself. This time, it was bittersweet.

* * *

_(Meg has resorted to bawling her eyes out.)_

Emma: Meg, that was a sweet ending.

Luke: I don't get it. Why are you so upset?

Meg: ROSE IS ALONE!

Luke: So? Ratigan treated her as if she was worth nothing! You wanted them to get together at the end?

Meg: NOOOOOOO!

Luke: So… what's the problem?

Meg: Rose went through so much, and she's left with… with…

Ratigan: Good God, you're crying over an ending you wrote!

Meg: It broke my heart, Mr. Insensitivity!

Ratigan: _(grumbling)_ If I'm so insensitive, then why didn't you portray me as such?

Meg: Because I wanted the ending to be touching!

Ratigan: For goodness sakes, you could've just paired me up with her. Isn't that what you do best?

Meg: I was going to up until August, and then I had a change of heart! So I had to end it this way!

Ratigan: I will never understand you messed-up teenage girls for the life of me!

_(JWJ bursts into the room)_

JWJ: Hey, guess what, you Communist losers?

Everyone else: _(annoyed_) WHAT?

JWJ: _(waves a letter above his head) _Haha, I just got accepted into Washington and Jefferson College!

Leigh: That's great!

Lizz: Congratulations!

RAEB: Good thing I'm not going there!

Emma: Yes!

Luke: I'd care, but I'm already in college. Actually, I wouldn't care even if I wasn't.

Ratigan: The brat will stay in America, thank God.

Meg: WHAT? That's not fair!

JWJ: Haha, I'm smarter than you!

Meg: Not that… I just got accepted into W&J! Dang you!

JWJ: What? How's that fair? You ruined it! _(tackles Meg)_

Meg: HELP!


	32. Epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

Ratigan: What? There's more?

JWJ: Just end the story already!

Ratigan: This story has already grown to the size of a novel! What can you say that hasn't already been said?

Meg: I'm making sure no one can write a sequel.

Ratigan: _(groan)_ Something tells me that I am not going to like this…

* * *

This is where the story of Rose McGeady ends, and the story of Renée Lyon begins.

Lyon was the personal secretary to _London Free-Press_ editor in Strasbourg from 1897 to1899, when she left the office because of a conflict with the editor. Soon afterwards she joined the architect Bodo Ebhardt in a restoration project of an old chateau in the Rhine Valley. She assisted in giving him accurate information on the architecture of the Middle Ages. She left the project late in 1900, installing herself at a magazine in London.

It was at this magazine, _The Aline Monthly, _that Lyon received her notoriety as a journalist. The January 1901 issue of the magazine published an interview between Professor James Ratigan, who had just resurfaced as the leader of London's criminal underworld, and Renée Lyon. The interview, complete with photographs, caused a public uproar. Mouseland Yard attempted to arrest Lyon for fraternizing with the enemy, while rival journals denounced her as a liar and a slanderer. However, the Yard could not find a legitimate charge to level against Lyon, and Ratigan himself wrote letters to all the major London newspapers and magazines defending the interview, as well as Lyon's integrity. Basil of Baker Street himself verified the authenticity of the letters.

With this success under her belt, Lyon became a regular journalist for _Aline_. She published several pieces of great public interest, such as accounts of the Boer War, the situations in several African colonies, and information concerning London's crime chain. Besides the writings of Dr. David Q. Dawson, most critics viewed Lyon as an expert on the topic. She wrote several more articles on Ratigan, as well as several as his henchmen, including Fidget, Jack Doonegan, and Rose McGeady.

Lyon's life, however, was a dangerous one. She was constantly watched by the police and Basil of Baker Street for evidence of any criminal activity on her part. Several attempts were made on her life by enemies of Professor Ratigan, the families of his victims and dissatisfied criminals alike. She was often slandered in the newspapers for her seemingly improper relationship with the infamous Napoleon of Crime, and she was ostracized by her contemporaries.

In the span of three years Ratigan granted Lyon two more interviews. Then, on March 20, 1904, James Ratigan's body was discovered in a flat in the East End. The cause for his death is still unknown today.

Lyon wore black for a few months, and then wore a black cravat with her professional clothes until she married in 1910.

Lyon met the novelist Victor Porter while vacationing with friend Lisa Anderson and her mother at Scarborough in July of 1908. Within two years they were married. The couple had a daughter, Charlotte, in 1911. The marriage was not a happy one. Porter and Lyon often argued; he said she was a nag, while she claimed he was domineering.

In 1915, an affair between Porter and heiress Julia Hatherbury turned into a public scandal. Porter joined the army as a way to escape the humiliation he received at home. Lyon, however, left Charlotte with her mother-in-law while she reported the progress of the war from Paris for three months. She returned, and remained at home with her daughter for the duration of the war. Victor Porter was killed in action in late 1917.

Lyon moved in with her mother-in-law and continued writing for _Aline_. She also began to write two biographies; one on the life of James Ratigan, and the other on the life of Rose McGeady. She completed Ratigan's biography in the mid-twenties, where it met with considerable acclaim.

She withdrew from public life soon after, working solely on McGeady's biography for the remainder of her life.

Renée Lyon died on November 21, 1932, at the age of fifty-three.

Afterwards, as Charlotte was going through her mother's papers, she discovered an autobiography of Rose McGeady's life, written in her mother's handwriting. It was then that Gerald, Rose's old friend, came forward and revealed that Renée Lyon and Rose McGeady were the same person.

The autobiography of Rose McGeady's life was published in 1933, at the expense of her daughter. It was a financial and literary success.

Five years later Charlotte had her mother's gravestone replaced, now bearing the name of Rose McGeady Porter, and an inscription which said:

"_What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."

* * *

  
_

Ratigan: YOU KILLED ME OFF!

Meg: I killed Rose off too! Happy?

Ratigan: Yes, but you made Rose famous! What about me?

Meg: Hey, the original version that was lost when my harddrive crashed had Basil defeating you in a final showdown! BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU GOT!

Luke: This leaves it open for your Meg Sarentis stories.

Meg: Eh... no, Oh, by the way, Strasbourg is in France, but in 1897 it belonged to Germany. And Bodo Ebhardt actually existed. The chateau he restored was called Haut-Koenigsbourg, and was given to the Kaiser of Germany at the end of the 19th century by the town of Selestat. Both the castle and the town are in modern-day France. _(Meg starts bawling again)_

JWJ: _(rolls eyes) _Girls.

Meg: NO! I have bad news!

JWJ: 'I just lost a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico?'

Meg: NO! I'm done writing GMD fanfiction!

Everyone: _(gasp)_

RAEB: WHY?

Meg: I just can't stand Meg Sarentis anymore, and I wanted this story to avoid a sequel. Besides, these plotlines are starting to repeat themselves, and I think I'd have to shoot myself if I created any new characters or storylines.

Ratigan: YES! YES! YES!

Meg: I also want to finally write a novel, like I've been trying to since I was twelve. Wow, I've been writing these GMD stories since I was fifteen…

Emma: Enough reminiscing! So that's it? You're done?

Meg: Sadly, yes. But if I do write a novel someday, I will have it under my alias, Meg Sarentis.

Leigh: WHY?

Meg: Attachment to the name. If it hadn't been for GMD, and all my reviewers and their useful advice, I wouldn't have gotten this far with my writing. Thanks everyone!

Ratigan: This is dragging on. Just say goodbye and be done with it!

Meg: _(sticks out tongue at him)_ Make me, you big fat, ugly, stupid sewer rat!

RAEB: Yeah, you sissy!

Luke: Always falling in love with helpless girls!

Emma: And getting yourself defeated by Basil-

JWJ: Joining up with Nazis-

Leigh: And letting women ruin your good judgment-

Lizz: And showing us that sensitive, soft side!

Ratigan: _(rolling up his sleeves, furious) _DIE! All OF YOU!

_(Ratigan chases all of them as they run away screaming)_


End file.
